THE TRAMP NEXT DOOR
by noneofyourbusiness885858838
Summary: Gabriella is new to East High and she's already making an impression on all the guys. To Troy, who's never touched a girl in his life, well, she's just that slut next door.. that is, the slut he's falling in love with.
1. Chapter 1

_**The Tramp Next Door**_

By. WhiT9217

* * *

_"You've got this silly way of keeping me on the edge of my seat."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

I groaned, irritated.

This place had nothing to offer me. I mean, New Mexico? Please. I would have stayed in New York any day. I understood that my parents wanted to be closer to our family, but whatever. I still couldn't understand their attraction towards those ignorant imbeciles. Fact: my family annoyed the living hell out of me. Fiction: I loved them. Ha! Right... so they thought! They pressured me into things I didn't want to do, such as, flying to New Mexico. It was damn obvious that New Mexico was a piece of shit. When I thought of the place, I thought of poor, homeless kids, wandering around in the desert. Then again, I wasn't exactly open-minded, 24-7.

We had finally gotten off the plane. Now this ride was longer then I would've expected. I entertained myself with dumb ass magazines about celebrities that nobody cared about. I mean, seriously, I didn't care about Jen and John. Okay, they were living together, and he was working out for her. Awesome, but how does that relate to my life? I think the paparazzi need a life; stalking celebrities really is not a living. They shouldn't get money for that. Then there were those stupid show hosts that made up rumors that weren't even true! The more they harass people, the less people want to become famous. I wouldn't want my neighbors spying on me and taking pictures of me. I'd rather be shot in the head.

I was in the backseat—big surprise, there. My two, ignorant parents sat in the front, chatting on about how they adored the disgustingly orange climate. I mean, seriously? I grimaced at the desert around me. How was this diverting? The most excitement that could happen now is if a wildcat randomly emerged from that cactus over there and attacked our car. Then, maybe we would be delayed from getting to Albuquerque on time—resulting in a much happier Gabriella.

God knows why my parents named me Gabriella. They expected me to be the perfect, prissy, open-minded woman that my mother is. I easily turned into Gabby, but I still hated that name. It sounded so bubbly, so outgoing, as if I was optimistic. Optimists bothered me, they miffed me. I could not stand them. I mean, how annoying is it, listening to one squawk on about how beautiful the day was? Honestly, most days are shitty, because eventually something bad happens. Ever hear the tale from the bible? Eve ate the apple, remember? So basically, we're supposed to be demons, we're supposed to make mistakes, we're supposed to live with shitty days. We aren't Jesus, for crying out loud! People acted as if they were trying to be faultless. That is impossible.

The air was steamy, humid at its best. Why would my family pick the hottest climate in the world to live? Oh, I have no idea. Seriously, my parents never heard of air conditioning, ever. We always had the windows down. I mean, even when we took a trip to Alaska, last February, they had the windows down! Not only did they enjoy making me ill, they enjoyed being perturbing. Wouldn't you get angry with your parents if they were immune to climate changes, if they were unaware of weather alternation? Yes.

"We're almost there, Gabby!" My dad, well, you could tell he was my dad—minus the wrinkles.

I owned up to my luscious raven-colored hair and matching dark eyes. I was half Filipino because of my mother, so my skin had a nice glow to it. However, I also shared the same nose as her—balky and immense in size. This annoyed me from time to time. I had a thin body, which helped with guys, and I never gained weight. I guess high metabolism? My father was Irish and Native American. He shared that frustrating, nerve-wracking, optimism that I was just complaining about. Everything was cheerful, everybody was happy, and everywhere things were perfect - despite the fact that he was living a lie. Yet, my mother was basically the same way.

My mother had a map in her hands, and was giving my dad directions every minute. I actually detested when they had a map. My parents couldn't read maps for anything, and we'd always end up lost. After being lost for hours, we'd eventually find our way. But usually, it took about two hours for my dad just to figure out where we were. My mom always got him confused.

We arrived around sunset. And let me tell you, the sunset at Albuquerque was not that ravishing. I understand, it was in a desert, so it must have been, since the colors match, orange and orange . . . um no. It bored me to death. And I didn't appreciate the fact that cactus' were growing only a few miles from my house. The house was decent, I mean, wasn't something I'd favor, particularly. We were in a neighborhood. You could easily notice the mountains from our house, which was... scenic, I guess if you were into that stuff. The houses were cute—mostly white, the windows seemed wooden. The roofs looked expensive, high-dollar material most likely. My parents weren't extremely wealthy—but we were well off, I'd guess. We had the ugliest plants growing in the yard though. It made me want to vomit. And the fact that we'd have to deal with pesky neighbors—that pissed me off even more.

"We're here." They announced, as if I was oblivious to notice that at first.

I made a snorting sound, grabbing my bags out from the trunk of our silver Kia Rondo. Yeah, decent car, too bad my parents trashed it completely.

They got out admiring the house, grinning at each other with such affectionate glances that it made me ill. I had to make a run for the door, secretively absorbing my surroundings. There hadn't been much excitement in the neighborhood, whatsoever. Yes, we were packed with next-door neighbors, which churned my stomach. I've never been that bad with dealing with people - as long as they weren't affluent, arrogant, or bubbly. Yeah, I'll admit; rich kids piss me off. It was amazing if you could find a rich kid that didn't have his or her nose up his or her ass - ridiculous. Get over yourself. It was your parent's fortune, not yours, dickhead.

After the oohs and ahh's and kisses and hugs, my parents made a dart for the door, looking more ecstatic then ever. I suppressed the urge to make a fake puking sound as they opened the door. My dad, in his modest buttoned-up white shirt and slacks, took a step in the house, sighing in satisfaction. I'm serious. My mother wore a long, multi-colored dress. She stepped in beside him, smiling with elation. "Oh, honey, it's beautiful!"

I only frowned—never amused, or erratically enthralled by the place. Upon arriving, the ceilings were high, and there was a large, spiral staircase that was pure wooden. This house had been passed onto my parents after my great grandparents died. Of course, my other grandparents were dead, so we got lucky. And as ill-fated as we usually were, we got the luck this time—my great grandparents were filthy rich. I don't know why I wasn't more exultant towards the masterpiece that was now our home. I really had no idea. It seemed flawless—without any imperfections, whatsoever. Everything seemed to shine; it was spacious and gorgeous. It was like something I'd see on television.

They were ranting on about how comely it was, as I proceeded upstairs, in search of my new bedroom. I gasped in astonishment when finding it. It was obviously mine, being a tad smaller then the master, but I still found it simply dazzling. (And trust me; I don't use that word often, at all). I couldn't stop smiling as I twirled around, feeling as if I was in a castle. The walls were a simple, clean white, but the size was formidable—something I could have only dreamed of. The bed was even agreeably large, the old, ancient wooden bed. I couldn't help but stare in wonder, imagining my grandmother growing up in such an extraordinary house with her parents. I found a primeval mirror located at one of the corners of the room. I took a small glance at my long, dim locks, matching eyes. I wore a pair of tight, black jeans, that hugged my behind, and a matching tank top that rode above my bellybutton. I enjoyed dressing in meager clothing—wanting to emphasize my figure. I nodded, appropriately, and then went towards my window.

The landscapes were lush—fountains, pure green. I wondered if I was even in a desert for a second, before looking beyond the house, noticing the mountains in front of me. The house next to me had a similar landscape, with a matching roof. It seemed equal in size, but maybe a tad thinner. It seemed adequate with beauty and space, though. The entire neighborhood had the same kind of atmosphere. I heard voices echoing outside. The window had been opened. Figures that my great grandparents left their windows open—that's where my parents got their dumb ass habits from.

I wondered what school would be like, and I cringed slightly. I hoped that the people wouldn't be the opposite of me—enthusiastic, eager, and friendly. I hated those kinds of people. I figured most of the people in this neighborhood were filthy rich, and I knew I'd have a problem with the majority of them. I shrugged off the idea, deciding to discover the house more. I realized later that the bathroom was large—with a jetted tub, something I've always wanted. I mean, how cool is that, a practical Jacuzzi in your bathroom? I was dying to take a bubble bath, and it was stupid.

Everything seemed a bit old-fashioned—especially the kitchen. The dining room was pure medieval ages, but it seemed homey, comforting in every way. Photos of my ancestors hung all over the walls, statues and expensive objects everywhere. I was lucky, that's what it was.

I ignored my parents as they reminded me that I had to go to my new school tomorrow, and trotted outside, more specifically, gazing over my surroundings, again. Maybe I was like a curious puppy dog or something; I had no idea why I was so enticed about stupid mountains. Eh, whatever.

* * *

"I'm not fucking going." I bellowed, the incendiary only becoming stronger within me.

Yet, my mother was persistent, not putting her foot down. "Gabriella Anita Montez, you are going to school today."

Damn it. I couldn't smooth talk my way out of this one, either. My father had already left for his new job, in which he got from his 'family connections' – yeah, whatever.

I wore a skirt that rid up to the top of my thigh, careless to the reaction I'd make in Albuquerque's school of hell. Okay, it was called East High, but I wasn't really excited at all. I was more dreading it then anything. I also ended up lacing up a tank top that was this angelic white. I wasn't the type of girl to wear white, but it seemed okay. I pulled off the classic 'bad school girl' look, easily. But I was anything but orgiastic to this day. Truthfully, I wanted to go back to that amazing bed and sleep longer, cuddled up in a ball, next to my cat, Mittens.

Yeah, I had a cat, too. We had to put him in the box on the way here. Trust me that was not encouraging— he meowed and bitched the entire way. My parents said that Mittens and I were similar in many ways. Pffft. . . Kind of were.

I wore these boots; they were those kinds of boots that allured guys back in NY. They were pure black, stretching from my toes to my knees. I went for a more unique look then anything, but I figured that there had to be some hot guys here in Albuquerque . . . hmm, maybe.

My mother had already gotten my schedule and locker number and everything. What a planner. Ha. If only I could be more like my mother. I was the least bit from organized.

I slung this gigantic bag over my shoulder, almost fainting at the weight of it. It was probably bigger then me, considering I was a petite, weary little thing. It would have helped if I was just a tad tall. I mean, I was so bitty compared to those tall, leggy girls on television. You'd have to look down to talk to me—this was something I disliked about myself.

I spun my combination, swiftly, remembering the rules of school. I mean, this my junior year, I had to know what I was doing. The halls were a red and white, the term "East High Wildcats" written all over the place. I snorted in resentment—how lame could they be?

I had Drama Arts first hour. I would be idiotic enough to sign up for such a class. I assumed I was okay with acting, but it wasn't particularly my interest. I'd never want to become someone like Angelina Jolie, and have paparazzi swarming around my windows all the time. Then again, I've mentioned this before, haven't I?

The kids seemed . . . well, good. And I mean good. They all seemed so well-behaved and modest, as if they had no problems whatsoever. They were all cool, laid back type of people. They all looked the same, really. It was kind of disturbing, a bunch of clones, and all goody two shoes.

And I was doomed with the Drama teacher, assigning partners the very first day of class. I mean, okay, he obviously noticed I was new, and I didn't know anyone, plus the bizarre expression on my face should have proven easily that I was not enjoying this. He was rubbing everything in for the worst.

Students departed from their seats, finding their best friends, shrieking with excitement and friendliness. Everybody seemed to forget that it was eight o'clock in the morning, I guess. I sat there, motionless, looking angry and infuriated. I didn't expect someone to actually waste time being my partner—I really didn't care if I had a partner. I was okay with sitting here, just not giving a shit.

"Hey? You wanna be partners?" It figures some fool would have the nerve to actually ask.

I found myself glancing into two hazel eyes.

"You're fucking me." I retorted, dryly, raising an eyebrow of disbelief.

The guy seemed shocked to my comment, "Uh. . . not at the moment, but later, if you really want. . ."

What a dumb ass. "That's disgusting; do you talk to your mother with that mouth?" I asked, sarcastically.

"I'm Jason." He blurted out, practically grabbing my hand, forcefully.

I continued staring at him with distaste. "Do you usually make stupid comments like that?"

"Yes, I um, do. I apologize, miss. You're the new girl, right?" Jason seemed to lack a few brain cells—but he wasn't that mindless, I'd guess.

He had long, chestnut-colored hair that swept over his forehead, appreciatively. His eyes seemed to match his hair, excepting reflecting a more hazel color then anything. He had a full, slightly plump face, that hadn't lost its baby fat just yet, and slight stubble. He wasn't too bad—he just wasn't exactly attractive.

Back at my old school, the majority of guys were similar to me—and we got it on easily. I wasn't used to being in relationships; actually, I was more used to playing the field—tackling guys, then breaking their hearts.

"My name is Gabriella." I spat at him, emphasizing the syllables. "You call me Gabby."

"So you, eh, like to talk, hmm?" Jason seemed obtuse in every way possible.

"Actually, sometimes parents make mistakes and name their kids with names that make no sense." I rolled my eyes. "Shouldn't you be associating with somebody who's more, like, you?"

"What do you erm, classify me as, Miss Gabby?" He's clearly pissing me off.

"I classify you as an idiot." I mumbled, tapping my pencil across the desk, impatiently.

"Thanks." He seemed hurt by this comment, as he looked away.

I was only amused by his sensitivity. "So what's this dumb ass project we're doing, Jay?" I inquired, giving him a nickname already, for no reason whatsoever.

"Eh, I'm not sure." This Jason, he really is clueless, isn't he?

"Weren't you paying attention?"

"Your beauty hypnotized me."

"You're not smooth." I assured him; he only looked embarrassed at my comment.

"Okay, okay, I'm done being an idiot." He promised, sighing. "We make up a silent movie."

"Fascinating, here's your paper, and your pencil, get 'er done, Jay." I handed him a piece of notebook paper and a pencil.

He only stared at the two, and then looked back at me, blankly. "Um, wouldn't you like to help?"

"I'll pass, but thanks for asking." I answered, nonchalantly.

He didn't really question my surrender; he only began jolting down things onto the piece of paper, frantically, as if he was going to die in the amount of minutes. Okay, I chuckled at this, because it was erratic how someone seemed so vulnerable to do things for other people, especially people he didn't know. I kind of liked him already—he could do my work for me.

"Do you know anybody at this school?" He asked, while in his frenzy of writing.

"I moved here from NYC." I didn't give him a smile.

"Ah, so you're brand spakin' new, eh?" He really was annoying.

"Jay? Could you do me a favor and not speak like a jackass just this once?" I suggested, rubbing my temple.

"Erm. . . sorry." He apologized.

"Is everybody around here so. . . dull?" I asked, glancing to all the modest clones.

"Dull? How are we dull?" He seemed interested, not writing anymore.

"You all look the same—and your men aren't even sexy." I couldn't help but blurt out.

"I work out everyday!" He exclaimed, offended. "Girls here like basketball players."

"Eww – I thought basketball was reserved for like. . . MJ and Denis Rodman." I mumbled, monotonously.

"It's different here." He admitted a dazed look on his face. "I can't get a word in with girls 'cause of some of those guys."

"Well with that mouth, I could see why." I grumbled, rolling my eyes.

It wasn't a surprise that fun with Jason came to an end very quickly. The bell for second hour rang like a fly in my ear—a very large fly that was buzzing like a lunatic. Jason had practically finished up a paper on a silent movie. I found him very useful, actually.

I sped to my locker, not wanting to be late for second hour. I already had my books issued, and Intermediate Writing was something I wasn't looking forward to. I was never good with writing—it just didn't suit me at all. I waltzed in, taking a seat at the very corner of the room, away from all the clones that were piling up in seats at the front. The class seemed to be dull for the most part, so far. The teacher had a friendly face, but I knew that could only lead to one thing; optimism. I groaned to myself, avoiding the awkward stares that people threw at me.

I was pretty bored, flickering small pieces of paper off of my desk (paper that I ripped out of my notebook; I was super bored, okay?!), when they strolled in. It wasn't like I was the only one to notice them, because it seemed like everybody else's eyes peeked up also. They walked in, nothing but beauty and mystery regressing from them. They were loud and were high-fiving each other with excitement. I flicked back my hair, noticing one of their eyes scanning over the people in the classroom.

There were three of them; the one to the left of the group was cute, in an innocent, 'jock' type of way. He had massive tawny-colored locks, he was African American, and he had chocolate-brown eyes. He wore a hoodie that said 'East High Wildcats', with matching ruby-red, long, baggy shorts. The one standing in the middle of the group was probably the most attractive with his brunette hair and ocean-blue eyes. He had a cute face, reminded me of a little boy, lacking the childish features. He had a muscular body that seemed just right, a t-shirt that said 'East High Wildcats' on it, with a pair of matching red sweatpants. And the one to the far right had golden-blonde hair, sapphire-colored eyes. He wore a random navy-blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He seemed a bit offbeat compared to the others.

They walked down the rows of desks, grinning presumptuously. I had to stop myself from kicking my desk. They were stuck-up, and hot. Fuck jocks. I groaned, even louder this time. I noticed the few girls in front of me turned around and glared at me, annoyed by my constant grumbling.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, deciding to make amusement out of this.

One of the girls, a girl with flaxen-colored hair and azure-colored eyes, turned to me, looking obnoxiously over baked and pissed off. "Um, yes, if you would please refrain from making animal sounds, we might be able to get on with our work."

"Ha, you aren't even doing any work, you dumb bitch." I retorted, casually, snickering at her.

"Excuse me?" The girl seemed pissed off by my comment. "You didn't just call me that."

"Possibly did. You should consider tanning too—that spray tan really doesn't do well for your face." I couldn't help but laugh at the befuddled expression on her face—the furrowing of her eyebrows.

"Who the hell are you?" The brunette next to her questioned, looking more angry then the blonde.

"Gabriella Anita Montez—but to you, that's Gabby." I answered, in pure mockery of my name.

She sat back in her seat, defeated, as I cackled to myself. If all girls were like this at this girl, this would definitely be an interesting day.

* * *

I had the first lunch of the day—10:30, lunch A, as they would say. I didn't want to go to lunch and sit alone like a loser, that wasn't my type of fun. But I decided to take a swat at it anyways, grabbing my books and heading directly for the cafeteria. I plopped down in a lonesome corner, glancing around at the abnormally clone-like figures around me. I officially disliked this school. The people seemed stuck-up, annoying, and very moody. And then there were some, like Jason, who were just. . . ugh. Dumb.

Lunch ended quickly, and my next hour happened to be nothing better then Art class—or more specifically; 3D Art. I rolled my eyes while entering, I despised art, and I was horrifying at it. I would need help in this class.

It seemed like mostly freshmen in the class. I swallowed, glancing at the void seats. I only found one that looked decent enough to sit in, and it was next to a boy—a very attractive, sexy, alluring boy. It was that boy from Intermediate Writing—the one with the brunette hair and ocean blue eyes.

Damn, and Art just got a hell lot better.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER.

Okay so totally new take. I hope you don't mind Gabriella actually having a personality here. In HSM, she was just kind of average, quiet, yet kindhearted, now she's a bitch, she's a whore, and she is honest and sarcastic. : P. I know it seems a bit cliché, but it seems nobody else has done this before. So I thought I'd take a swat. ;) . Please be kind and review. Give me your opinions. It's hard to imagine Gabby as a bad ass but try your hardest. Just think of Vanessa Hudgens as a bad girl. That's more possible, I think. Zac finds her sexy. Okay, I'm done. Leave a review!

-Whitney.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Well how fun is it that I wrote a new story? I was debating on calling this 'Crazy Beautiful' because it reminds me of that movie. But at the same time, I refuse to make it _exactly_ like that movie. Cliché stories make me angry, even though I write so many of them. : P. Oh well. Point is Gabriella's a bad girl... a real bad girl. And Troy is well... the good guy. If you know what I mean... :) Okay, well don't be afraid to leave a review. Oh and you notice I'm using all TBS lyrics? How exciting. Love, Whitney.

* * *

"_You are everything I want ‛cause you are everything I'm not."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

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CHAPTER TWO

I strolled towards the seat next to this _hottie_. He looked dragged, as if he didn't know anybody in the room. His eyes were looking straight down to the table. I couldn't help but notice how fucking _beautiful_ he was. He was like God's greatest creation. I couldn't keep my eyes off of the symmetrical figure.

I took the seat next to him, a racy smirk on my face. "Hey there."

He lifted his eyes up, and I observed the azure colors in his eyes. He was slightly tan, and it made me wonder if he actually went to a tanning bed. He looked sexy, nonetheless, so I didn't really care.

"Hey." His voice was prostrated, as he stared at me breathlessly.

He must have been shocked at my school girl outfit. I grinned with pride.

"I'm Gabriella, you can call me Gabby. I'm new." I kept my eyes on him, enticed by his beauty. "You're cute."

He seemed surprised that I came out and said that straightforwardly. I could tell he wasn't used to getting attention from girls like me. Or maybe he was into more reserved women. Hell, as if I knew. I wasn't trying to analyze him, but the way he was acting was weird. It was as if I was a celebrity or something—he just gaped at me, abnormally, and hardly said a word.

".. Um, likewise." He finally answered, a forced, domineering grin appearing on his face. "Troy." He finally let out, putting out a hand.

I rolled my eyes. He wanted to _shake hands_? What a fucking nerd. I grabbed his hand, faking a delighted smile. "Mm, your hands are so _hot_." I commented, as I clung onto his hand, my words scalding like fire.

He looked speechless, as if he didn't know how to respond. He scratched the back of his head, uncomfortably, and didn't say anything else.

What was wrong with the boy? He could hardly maintain _flirting_. The only thing he could do was dazzle me with those perfect teeth, and that faultless face. I only stared at him, trying not to expect more.

"Dude! Man! Sharpay is _totally_ going to say yes today." A thrilled voice said from behind me.

I turned my head slightly to find a young man, our age, lurid-colored, with ebony-colored hair and matching eyes. He wore an elongated grin, and a pair of casual jeans and a fibrous gray-shirt. I was shocked that he wasn't wearing something that said ‛Wildcats' all over it. Dumb mascot-obsessive douche bags.

He hadn't noticed me yet, as he continued on, excitedly. "I mean, today's like, the best day for it, right, Troy? She's for _sure_ going to say yes. She just has to, man. I mean, I've been scoring chicks all day, and if she doesn't say yes, then I ought to just--" He noticed me, before sitting himself down.

"Holy shit! Who is this fine piece of," He stopped himself, as I glared at him, detrimentally, "fine piece of woman! Hello!" He sung, taking the seat next to me, gratefully.

Troy only chuckled to this guys' obvious lunacy.

"Um . . . _hi_." I mustered out, still grimacing at him. "I'm Gabriella, Gabby to you."

"Wow, you must be new, are you not, baby?" He swung, grinning widely.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I am new. I really prefer you not call me pet names though."

"I apologize. _Troy_, is this _your_ woman?" The guy turned to Troy, a look of inquiry in his eyes.

Troy looked to me with slight amused eyes. "No, we just met."

"I'm Zeke." The guy introduced, putting out a hand.

Another handshake? What is wrong with these men? Do they not have the balls to do anything else? Even a normal wink would be better then some lame ass handshake. I extended my hand, nonetheless, "Right."

I noticed him glancing at me, wheezing, as if he had never seen anything better. Troy only continued looking diverted by this.

"And damn I thought Sharpay was something'. Whew." He breathed, still airless.

"_Troy_!_"_ An extremely annoying, high-pitched, women's voice interrupted each of us, as we all turned around.

A young girl, about 5'3" stood with resplendent blonde hair, and amber-colored eyes. Her hair curled at its ends and seemed graceful to the end of her back. She easily seemed to be preppy, maybe even snotty. Just at the sound of her voice, I knew I wouldn't like her. She was squeaky as hell. Plus, she totally just waddled her tiny ass all the way over towards Troy, practically drawling her long, ruby-red nails into his shoulders. I felt sorry for him, just taking in the disgusted look on his face.

"Um," This girl must have noticed me, because her eyes flickered over towards me with disapproval, "what is _that_, sitting in my seat?"

I snickered to her ridiculous attempt at insulting me. "Bitch please. I'm full human - I'll assure you. Although I'm pretty sure your nose is fake."

She raised an eyebrow, a look of horror appearing on her face, "Troy! Who is this . . . _fool_? Please don't tell me you associate with this."

Troy said nothing, just watched me, startled by my honesty.

"Look, woman, I doubt Troy can even speak—your claws are like throttling him." I noticed Zeke's eyes now widening.

"Ugh! Am not!" She retorted, infuriated, as she pulled her fang out of his shoulder.

I _hated_ women that thought they could control men.

"You just were, you stupid whore. I don't even _know_ you, and I already find you extremely annoying. If these two can stand you, they must have earplugs in half the time." I looked to Troy and Zeke, who remained quiet.

"Who _are_ you?" She hissed, sweltering with anger.

"Gabriella Anita Montez. Well, Gabby to you, but personally, I don't want your nasty lips rehearsing my name at all, all right?" I responded, venomously.

She looked as if she was ready to jump over the table and attack me with those gruesomely long fingernails. I winced.

"Well I'm Sharpay Evans. And quite frankly, my daddy owns those buildings named ‛the Evans', so maybe you should reconsider being so discourteous. I _am_ the most popular girl in the school, plus I could totally take you shopping." I never realized how moronic the woman was until she uttered those words.

"I don't give a cat's shit how popular you are. You irritate me with your squeaky voice and your long ass rat fingers, seriously. Go away." I snarled, churlishly.

She looked even more offended. "_Ugh!"_ She gasped, than glared at Troy. "You aren't going to say anything to this imbecile?"

"He _can't_; you dumb cunt, you're smothering him." I growled.

"Sharpay." Troy began, looking muddled.

"Tell her - tell her she needs to leave! Zeke! You want her gone, don't you?" Sharpay looked desperate, now looking to Zeke, getting no response from Troy.

Zeke looked to her for a second, than burst out laughing. "Dude! Oh my God . . . this girl is the shit." He was looking to me, then back to Troy.

Sharpay heaved, angrily. "You idiots! How is _she_ cool? She looks like a slut."

"Well at least I'm not strangling either of them with my fingernails." I rolled my eyes.

"You two will regret this at lunch." She muttered, walking towards the back of the room, her hair bouncing onto her back with every movement, contemptuously.

I sighed in relief. "Thank God, how the hell do you two put up with that _bitch_?"

"Dude, that was so hot. How did you do that? I've never seen any person tell off Sharpay before." Zeke instantly stammered, impressed. "I've always thought she was arousing, but hot damn, woman, you are _on fire_." This guy really couldn't stop with the obsessing, could he?

I looked to Troy, with dauntless eyes. "What about you? I hope you don't mind that I told off your Barbie doll girlfriend."

He didn't seem upset. He actually started _laughing_. "No, she's not my girlfriend. She's been stalking me since about third grade. I've never had the guts to tell her I really can't stand her though. So, if anything, you just helped out . . . _a lot_." He smiled at me, gratefully.

"Anytime, gorgeous." I winked at him, seductively.

"We need a nickname for this glorious woman . . . hmm." Zeke pretended to think. "Like lil' G or something."

"Dude, I'm not a _thug_." I mumbled.

"Ah! Baby G, that's it." He seemed satisfied.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

"Where did you move here from, Gabriella?" Troy's sensuous voice interrupted Zeke's idiotic conversation.

I smirked at him, mystically. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He gave me an irregular half-smile. "Is that . . . like a secret or something?"

No, I'm messing with you, you oblivious doorknob. "_Maybe_._"_

I could still see the thunderstruck expression on his face—it hadn't vanished. Yes, he definitely wasn't used to a woman candidly flirting with him. I guess preppy bitch wasn't that smooth, eh?

"Hmm." Troy's amnesic expression turned into a stolid smile, flashing those sensationally white teeth. Wow, he was so _cute._

"I have a secret!" Zeke exclaimed, deliriously.

I groaned, in frustration. "Look, Zelda, or whatever your name is--"

"Zeke." He confirmed, looking slightly hurt.

"Whatever, Zippy. . . I understand you're extremely infatuated with bitches, but can we stop this whole you-are-so-damn-hot-Gabriella thing?" I suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Troy held his mouth, as if suppressing laughter.

Zeke looked tongue-tied for a few minutes, before finally replying. "I'm sorry, it's just we never get girls like you in this school! Your bluntness is appeasing, really."

"Oh, you like it that much?" I inquired, astounded by his idiocy.

"_Yes_; it's _spicy_." The way he says the word ‛spicy' kind of freaks me out. "Plus, that outfit, whew, babe, you got a bod to die for."

"You are a pervert, seriously." I was nauseated by his comments.

If every guy in this school was this perverted, I was for sure going to kill myself.

"I know, but what gives? Baby G, you are really something'! Ain't she Troy?" Zeke looked to Troy, as did I, wondering what he would say.

"Yeah, she sure is." Troy winked at me, raunchily.

Now _that's_ what I'm talking about, beautiful. I smirked at him, approvingly.

"Hell yeah! High five girl!" Zeke stuck up a hand, as if expecting me to high five him.

_Psf._ Yeah, right. I don't know where those hands have been. Well, most-likely in his pants. Horny bastard.

I gave him one, nonetheless. Guess it couldn't kill me too much, I'd just have to wash my hands after this class.

"So is that girl usually that annoying?" I asked, referring to that Sharpay girl, as I looked back towards where she was sitting—with a bunch of pizza-faced nerds. I couldn't help but chuckle in satisfaction.

"_Yes_." Troy breathed, exasperated. "Usually worse."

"Well I seen the way she dug her nails into your shoulder. I felt sympathy." I admitted, snickering.

"She's hot, but damn, she thinks she can control _everybody_." Zeke added in, with contravention. "I've been trying to win a date with her since second grade, but she's always had her claws on Troy."

"So I've _noticed_. You poor thing." I sympathized for Troy, giving him playful eyes. "Haven't you ever considered telling her the truth?"

"Yeah, but the thing is, Sharpay's good friends with a few of my friends, and that control she has over people, well, I'm pretty positive they'd be mad at me." Troy answered, skeptically.

"That's pure hell. If I were you, I'd say, fuck the friends." I shrugged, heedlessly.

Troy and Zeke only looked at me with atypical eyes.

"Sorry, didn't mean to like, go overboard or something. You two seem like the type of guys who don't cuss, drink, or smoke or anything." I apologized, not really sorry.

"Oh, hell no. I _love_ to party." Zeke flashed a pair of spotless teeth, presumptuously.

I cackled. "_Right_,_"_ I looked to Troy, "what about you?"

"Well. . ." Troy looked a bit embarrassed. "I try to avoid that kind of stuff, mostly because I'm in basketball."

"_Boring!" _I coughed, disappointed.

I was never interested in really good boys. Troy was undeniably attractive—but it would be hard for him to deal with my ways. If I wanted to get a nice lay from him, there was no way he'd be able to deal with me.

"So, Zeke," I turned my attention to Zeke, trying to avoid negative thoughts about Troy. "You smoke, drink, party?"

"_All_; I like to have a good time. And yeah, I enjoy smoking up some bud."

"Mm. Nice, we'll have to hang sometime soon and smoke it up." I looked to Troy, hopefully. "If you want, you should too. I'd like to see your pretty eyes sometime."

He bit his bottom lip, startled. "Well, that'd be a pretty ballsy move, but for now, I gotta stick with basketball."

"_Humph." _No fun.

By this time, class had started, and the teacher was heading our way, ready to scold us for talking and disrupting class. He seemed annoyed enough. "Please, refrain from talking if you can, all of you, unless you'd like a move already."

"Oh, Mr. Van Hook, we're sorry. We didn't realize class had started." Zeke gave the teacher sorrowful eyes.

Art class seemed to go by swiftly. And I kind of understood why. It was intriguing, meeting Troy and Zeke. Troy seemed so innocent, so chaste. I wondered if he had ever gotten in trouble in his life. He seemed the type to get straight A's, and live up to his family's expectations, not his own. Yet, I was mesmerized by his beauty. I _had_ to see what's beyond those clothes. I _had_ to. And I couldn't stop grinning at the naughty thoughts in my mind.

I could tell he had his own image here. Sharpay definitely folded into his hypnotizing eyes. Most of the girls in the Art class would glance back at him, admiring him, than turn back around. I could easily notice the aesthetic light that emitted off of him every time he moved. He had that _spark_ about him. Yet, he was the opposite of what I was accustomed to. You know those guys with tattoos and piercings, the one with muscles bulging out of their arms, like David Beckham? Yeah, those were my type of men - the one's that could save you from everything and they were so fatally attractive. Yet they were enticing because they _scared_ you. Oh, and just to let you know, I have a gigantic poster of David Beckham in my room; he is fucking _sexy_.

Basically, I was never into pretty boys.

I had a feeling that East High was going to be pretty surreal. It became even stranger when I walked into physics, finding myself seated _adjacent _to Sharpay Evans. I couldn't help but groan in distaste. She hadn't noticed me until I did this, then she just turned to me, looking as appalled as I was.

"Oh, it's _you_." She sneered, unhappy to my presence, obviously.

"Yay, the squeaky bitch." I muttered, disrespectfully.

She didn't say anything back. She really sucked with defending herself, honestly.

"I like your boots." She suddenly commented, a sudden insouciant tone to her voice. What was she trying to pull, anyways?

I clenched my fists. "Right."

"Seriously, they are so hot, where did you get them?" She asked again, the same mellow tone coming from her glossed lips.

I looked down to my boots, unenthusiastic. "Okay, thanks? Since when did you like things that _aren't_ pink?" I figured she liked pink—the majority of pedantic women liked pink the best.

Really, I didn't like it much.

"I do. Deal with it. You own designer clothes?" She inquired, her squeaky tone suddenly vanishing.

I turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Are you trying to make a conversation with me?" She must have been wretched if she was desperate for _my_ approval.

"Yes." She admitted, looking down to her feet, ashamed.

"Um, _right_. . . Why? I don't like you." I mumbled, giving her a sideways glance.

"Your clothes are hot. We'd have rad shopping adventures."

"You are demented." I looked away from her, finding myself staring at an extremely _arousing_ physics teacher.

Fuck, how many hot guys do they have in this school? I almost started drooling over his flaxen-colored locks and his dreamy sapphire colored eyes.

"Wow, Mr. Messacar, please come to my bedroom." I whispered, despairingly.

"Yum." I heard Sharpay add from beside me.

"Is he not the creation of God himself? You can totally tell." I breathed, in aghast.

"Yeah, imagine his thirty-year old package." Sharpay didn't seem serious.

Mrs. Messacar talked for a little while, than passed out a pretest—something I had to do in the majority of my classes, the first day of class anyways. I really wasn't any good at physics, so I was dreading this entirely.

Sharpay passed me the paper. "Are you any good at physics?"

"God no, and even if I was, I wouldn't help your bitch ass." I snorted, loutishly.

"_Thanks_._"_ Sharpay murmured. "My brother's pretty good at it. Psst, Ryan." She whispered to a boy with sandy-colored hair, who was sitting in front of me.

He turned around, his small lips curving into a cunning smile. My jaw dropped, horrendously. "That is _not_ your brother." I hissed to her, percussive.

"Yeah, that would be him." She seemed agitated that she even had a brother, while I was having a panic attack.

"Oh my _God_ Sharpay . . . he is so cute." I whispered, breathlessly.

He was - he was like the second god of the school, besides Troy and Mr. Massacre.

"You are ill-minded. Don't you fuck with my brother; he's a virgin." Sharpay sneered, dangerously.

"He's so cute and hygienic, he's like a doll." I ignored her.

He was. He had hazel colored eyes and wore a coy hat on his head, which was even more adorable! He was pallid color, and wore old-styled, dorky pants, and a striped pink shirt. Why did innocent men appeal to me now?

"_Gabriella,"_ Sharpay hissed, "you can't mess with my brother!"

He seemed even worse then Troy. He looked so virginal - as if he had never experienced _anything_, like a new seed or something. I couldn't stop smiling at his innocence. It was cute.

"Ryan, can I borrow your answers, pretty please?" I interrupted Sharpay, putting on an aseptic grin.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm new, Gabriella Montez." I introduced, winking at him, ignoring Sharpay's glaring.

"Ooh! So, _you're_ the new girl?" He beamed at me, suddenly, "I'm Ryan Evans - pleased to meet you." He was so proper and polite.

"I'm _horrible_ at physics, Ryan. Do you think you could give me some answers?" I batted my eyelashes at him, provokingly, keeping the fresh grin on my face.

"You know, Ryan, I don't think that's such a _good_ idea." Sharpay snipped at her brother, grimacing at me from the side. "You should give me the answers."

Ryan seemed unable to resist my charms though, and frowned at Sharpay. "Sharpay, you've been going here for years. You've taken this class twice now." Sharpay blushed at his reminder. "I think Gabriella, being new, should be able to at least look at my answers and try and understand better. Cheating isn't good, which I'm sure she wasn't planning on doing. . ."

"Oh no," I winked at him, naughtily. (Man, I've been winking a lot.) "I wouldn't _ever_ cheat."

He grinned, easily believing me. Damn, he was vulnerable. "Good, then you can definitely look over my answers and understand." He tilted back in his seat, in perfect rhythm, handing me his paper.

I smirked with patronage. Sharpay was pouting, her arms folded, as she kicked the front of her desk, angrily.

I began scribbling down Ryan's answers, rapidly. The writing was so neat and straight, he must have been a genius. I could tell by the way he presented himself that he had a brain. He was a _good guy—_just like Troy.

I handed it back to him, thankful. "Yep, our answers were exact." I lied, the smirk still not fading, despite Sharpay's growling from beside me.

"Wow, so, you're new, eh? You must be pretty good at physics." He assumed, grabbing the paper from my hand.

"Apparently so," I gave him a cheeky smile, "we should study together sometime—we'd make a great pair, hmm, cutie?" I suggested.

He blushed, turning a rosy-red color. I couldn't help but snicker at his unfamiliarity towards women hitting on him. What was wrong with these boys? Obviously they don't have any _real_ flirting women in this school. They lacked so much. This boy was still a virgin—that definitely needed to change.

"Y-yeah, that would be neat." He scratched the back of his head, kind of like Troy did earlier today, stuttering nervously.

Sharpay was only looking at us with disgust.

Ryan turned back to the chalkboard, as I rested back in my seat. As I was expecting, Sharpay began to scold me. "I thought you were like, into Troy or something, that's why you totally extruded me from Troy's art table?"

"Uh, no, Troy's cute as hell though. I yelled at you because, quite frankly, Sharpay, I can't stand you." I mumbled, lowly.

"So, let me get this straight, you intend on playing my brother _and_ Troy Bolton?" Sharpay inquired, furrowing her eyebrows at me.

"And that fine ass teacher if I can." I looked towards Mr. Messacar, who was sitting at his desk.

"_Please." _Sharpay laughed, hollowly. "Leave my brother alone."

"Why? Are you afraid he won't be your bitch anymore if I don't?" I asked, gaining an attitude.

She twitched her fingers, fussily, "No. . ." She looked guilty.

"_Yes_. I do what I want. So don't try and boss me around, honey." I sneered at her.

"I'm not, but honestly, do you think Troy and Ryan will be happy about that?" She questioned, folding her arms.

"You're fucking retarded. They're men. I've done this before—boys really don't care."

"Yeah, and they would have to be stupid to care about someone like _you_." Her abhorrent, squeaky tone had come back.

"You shut up. Troy can't even _stand_ you." I informed her, balefully.

"It's not that . . . he just . . . hasn't realized he's in love with me yet." Sharpay stuttered, looking away from me with hurt eyes.

"Whatever. If that's what keeps you asleep at night." I muttered, harshly.

"The only reason they like you is because you're a slut and they know that they can get stuff from you." She seemed angry now. "So, bitch please."

"Don't you _ever_ bitch please me, you dumb, fake bitch." I growled at her, my anger now getting the best of me. "I'd rather be liked because I'm a slut then be hated for being a fake, annoying, squeaky little bitch."

"_God_, Gabriella. He's my _brother_. Like it or not, I do care about his feelings." Sharpay interrupted my bellowing. "Don't break his heart."

I chuckled, aloofly. "Honestly, Sharpay? You don't scare me."

"Gabriella, _promise_ me you won't break his heart. My brother is weak; he won't be able to live with it." She was besieging me.

"Honestly, Sharpay, don't bet on anything. I'd rather go to hell then listen to you." I hissed underneath my breath as the bell rang.

I made sure I was the first one out of those ghastly doors.

* * *

_END OF CHAPTER_

Okay, so here we are again. Gabriella is kind of, extremely mean, I apologize. She's used to guys who are rough and don't care about her though. One night stands, hookups that mean nothing to the other person. She has a slight attraction to Troy and Ryan. (And obviously that physics teacher haha.) However, this story concentrates on Troyella, so we'll see what happens, right? Want some updates? Leave me reviews. Let me know I'm not alone on reading this. : P. Oh, and next chapter TROY'S POV! YAY.

-Whitney.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Okay, so now we get an insight of what Troy is feeling and we'll get to see his ‛perfect' life. Basically, he and Gabriella are like opposites. Except difficult opposites that wouldn't work in the real world. That is, unless they fell in love. : P Love, Whitney.

* * *

"_Well I've got a bad feeling about this."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

_Troy's Mind._

I made sure I was the first one to the hoop, swiftly whisking my way towards its delicate strings, the wind nestling my hair as I ran. I felt the power, the excitement, the success, as I made the hoop. I grinned to myself, proudly.

"Nice one, Bolton. You gonna take me up?" My best friend, Chad appeared from behind me. He approached me, as if to traverse me.

I threw him the basketball, "Show me what you've got."

In just the brisk of a second, Chad was darting towards the hoop, then dangling from its strings, the basketball emerging from the hoop. He looked to me, an egotistical grin on his face.

"Nice man. You better save your stuff for the game though." I advised him, rushing up from behind him, kidnapping the ball, and suavely shooting it towards the hoop, making the shot.

"Are we practicing tonight at your house, dude?" Chad advanced towards me, folding his arms.

"Yeah, since practice was canceled because of the _wet_ _climate_." I rolled my eyes. It was two weeks before the big game and New Mexico _never_ had to deal with rain, until today, of course. My dad happened to be the school's basketball couch, and today, he canceled, which seemed absurd enough. He was a basketball _fanatic_.

"That's such ludicrous man. Your dad must've hit his head." Chad joked.

"Yeah, it stopped raining hours ago." I mumbled, "We're never gonna be prepared for this game."

"Yeah . . . so, what's new, man?" Chad inquired in a humdrum tone.

I shot at the hoop again, making it. "Nothing really . . . same old stuff, really."

"Yeah. . ." Chad droned, colorlessly, "I heard a few rumors though."

Oh brother. "What now?" I asked, kind of frustrated. Usually the rumors involved me and some girl. They always tried to gossip about me, about how I'm with some girl or something just because I talked to her. East High seemed obsessed with making idiotic rumors about me. It wasn't usually a big deal, just simple things that weren't true.

"I heard . . . there's a new girl." Chad had his arms folded, curiously, "You know anything?"

"Not really." I lied, dribbling the ball in a lame circle.

"Well, I've heard two sides. I've heard she's wicked hot, but I've heard that she's a bitch too." Chad chuckled, obviously amused by this.

That pretty much summed it up, I'd guess. I didn't really know the girl. She was cute, yeah, but that wasn't much. She seemed to have a completely different lifestyle then me. How would that ever work?

"She's not your type, man." I informed him, dribbling the ball between my legs. To my misfortune, it bounced away from me.

"Oh, really - what is she, like crazy or something?" Chad seemed a bit too interested.

"Kind of. . ." I muttered, kicking the ball, agitated.

"Dude, you did not just kick that ball." He criticized me, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Why is the majority of our school's population _obsessed_ with gossiping? It gets on my nerves." I grumbled, watching the ball roll away, carelessly.

"Because we have Sharpay Evans in our school, that's why." Chad responded. We both cringed at the mention of her name.

"How could I ever forget?" I sighed, melodramatically, "That new girl sure did tell her off today though. It was pretty funny."

"Whoa. She told off _Sharpay_? Dude, that's awesome!" Chad seemed elated now.

"Yeah, it's about time, huh?" I shoved my hands into my sweat shirt's pockets.

"She must be pretty cool then, right? I mean, nobody tells off Sharpay."

"Yeah, she's cool, just not the type of person we'd hang with." I answered, nonchalantly.

"Is it true that she wore a skirt that basically went up her ass?" Chad asked, inquisitively.

I laughed at him. "Dude, do you want me to get her your number or something?"

We were interrupted by Zeke, another good friend of ours, who we hung out with a lot. He approached us, a wide grin on his face. "What it do, brahs?"

"What did I tell you about talking like a Jamaican?" Chad sighed.

"Man, it's whatever. So, what's up? I hear there's no practice. What's crawling up your dad's ass? And don't tell me a cockroach this time; you remember how I freaked out before." Zeke asked, glancing towards me.

"I never said that, I dunno what you're talking about. But, yeah, there's no practice today." I answered, giving him a whimsical frown.

"Oh, maybe that was Chad. . ." Zeke's eyes flickered over towards Chad, who just shook his head. "Meh, it doesn't matter. _So_, what were you guys talking about? Chicks, maybe?"

"You are such a perv, dude. I was talking about that new girl. I've been hearing rumors all day." Chad responded, casually.

Zeke's eyes lit up. I groaned. Here we go.

"Oh my brother - she is _beautiful_, and I mean beautiful. She's got dem legs, dem apple bottom jeans, dem boots with the fur--"

"Dude, please, just stop." I muttered, as he began rapping like an idiot.

"Aw man, you broke my wind. Anyways, she's hot shit. I'd fuck her." Zeke said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Really? How hot - scale?" Chad asked, chuckling.

"Chad, honestly, you actually believe him? He'll drool over anything he can see with his eyes." I cut in.

"Ouch, that hurts, T, man. What you tryin' to do? Hurt Zeke's feelings? And don't lie; you thought she was hot too." Zeke grinned, oddly.

"Troy, how long has it been since you'd have a woman in your life?" Chad folded his arms, impatiently.

"Oh come on guys, let's not go here again." I muttered, not wanting to hear their constant persuasive comments about dating. "I don't like anyone around here."

"Yeah, but even Sharpay's got some fine ass legs going on. You must be a jackass not to tap that immediately, especially when she's like . . . all obsessed with you." Zeke noted.

"Yeah, that's the point . . . she freaks me out. She's stalked me since third grade." I reminded him, shuddering.

"So, let the woman in already!" Zeke hollered, maybe a bit too loud. He smirked at me, compellingly.

"Ha . . . real funny, _not_." I picked the basketball up from the ground, dribbling it again.

"I honestly don't think Sharpay's Troy's answer." Chad sounded a bit disgusted by the idea. "Actually, I don't think Sharpay's the answer for _anyone."_

"Yeah, I definitely second that." I concurred.

"You guys are seriously made for each other. Maybe _you two_ should go out. All I know is that there are some fine ass chicks in this school calling out for me. They're saying, ‛Zeke, oh Zeke'. Gabriella's one of them." Zeke seemed pretty intrepid about this.

"Yeah, she was calling your name today when she kept ignoring you." I mocked, throwing the ball towards the hoop, it making it, again.

Chad chuckled.

I grabbed the ball, and noticed my dad's navy-blue van approaching the parking lot, waiting patiently. I looked to them, than threw the ball to Chad. "Let's wait until practice tomorrow; I'm beat."

"All right man, works for me." Chad called back to me, as I jogged over towards my dad's van.

I got in the passenger's seat, fastening the seat belt, throwing my book bag and basketball clothes into the backseat.

"How was school?" He asked, dully, pulling out of the school's parking lot.

"It was all right." I responded, curtly.

"The rain sure was coming down hard earlier." He commented, informatively. I didn't say anything, not sure on how to reply, because I completely disagreed with him.

"Chad's not coming for dinner?" He inquired, glancing towards me, his eyes the same sapphire color as my own.

"Nah - he had something to do." I lied, not really into being labeled lazy just because I decided to avoid practicing with Chad for one day.

"So you're gonna practice alone?" He persisted, but I could see the look of disapproval in his eyes.

"Yeah. . . I'll shoot for about an hour."

We arrived back to my house around four o'clock. The sky was still a dark, misty color from the early rain. And the air smelled differently. We weren't used to the rain - at least, not in a desert.

My dad walked inside, while I grabbed my basketball from the garage and took it outside. I looked up to the hoop that I usually shot at, and began making shots left and right. I began to grow tired after awhile. It seemed like I wasn't ever going to miss a shot. Maybe I was on a roll or something.

"Damn, boy's got skill." A satirical, piping voice interrupted my shot, and I missed the hoop, horribly. It stirred away from the gravel, ending up somewhere in the dirt.

I turned around, and found myself looking into a pair of immense chocolate-colored eyes. It was that girl from Art Class, the new girl, Gabriella, I think it was. She wore the same attire; a short skirt that really _did_ ride up her ass, a tank top that seemed to reveal too much, and her hair was down and luscious with ebony-colored curls. I mean, she was beautiful, but she portrayed herself in a way I could never enjoy. She seemed interested in anything that had a penis. Or so it seemed.

I greeted her, nonetheless, putting on a polite smile. "I didn't know you were my neighbor." Really, I had no idea.

"Hmm. Looks like its fate." She gave me this smile, and I can't explain it. The corner of her mouth seemed to twist in a seductive way, and it drove me a little insane for just a second. She was _hot_. It was hard not to notice.

She made her way towards my garage, and me, standing there, with a casual Wildcats ruby-red sweatshirt and a pair of matching red sweatpants. And of course, I was on the brink of sweating. But I'm sure that didn't really matter.

She was inches from me. "You look pretty _hot_. Working out like that will kill you, you know?" She taunted.

I didn't respond, kind of not knowing _what_ to say. She really was bad with giving a guy time to reply too, she must've had something down her shirt. She always had something to say. Maybe she wrote it on her arm. She knew how to drive a guy crazy though. I'll tell you that.

I'm not kidding.

"Doesn't kill me, only makes me stronger." I winked at her, modestly. Though I can't imagine how lame that really _did_ sound.

She made a face, proving that I just made myself look like an idiot. "_Right_, so why aren't you jamming out to Space Jam songs or something? You did that shot like Michael Jordan. And I mean _exactly_ like Michael Jordan." She seemed impressed.

"Thanks, music stops me from concentrating though." I took an aim for the hoop, making it within perfect allotment.

"So _this_ is what keeps you from partying, huh?" She seemed a bit muddled while saying this, lifting an eyebrow up, weightlessly.

I retreated for the ball, taking another aim for the hoop. "_This_ is what keeps my sanity." I confessed.

"Oh, that's a pity." She muttered, kicking a rock, distantly. She watched as the basketball went directly into the hoop without trouble. "_I believe I can fly._" She chuckled, singing jokingly.

"_I believe I can touch the sky_." I rolled my eyes. "You're distracting me."

"Oh, you're a poop, no fun whatsoever. _I believe I can fly._" She grinned, as if she had just accomplished something.

I dropped the ball, watching it roll away from me, exasperated.

"You don't like music?" She inquired, looking towards me with exemplary brown eyes. You know, if she didn't dress like a complete prostitute, she could pass as a normal girl. Not like I was complaining that she did or anything though.

"I love music. It's just, not my basketball remedy." I answered, honestly, my eyes now placed on her.

She impended towards me, becoming so close to me that I could hardly stare directly at her. I looked away, the intensity of our proximity driving me crazy. The words rolled off of her tongue in the most inveigling way, "Well maybe you should give it another chance." I felt so caught up by the sudden temptation lying between our bodies that I didn't notice my dad calling in the background.

"_Troy_." I suddenly heard the roaring of his frustrated voice from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready."

I backed away from Gabriella, walking backwards slowly. "See you in art, Troy." her voice echoed from the small distance between us. I continued walking back, my eyes placed on her, curious to her character. What was wrong with this woman? She was far too upright and bewitching.

I stumbled over a rock, almost falling backwards on my behind. I heard her giggling at me from in front of me. I turned around, my face turning a bit red from embarrassment, heading towards the house.

I strolled in, modestly, heading towards the kitchen table. My mother and father sat there, looking upset and impetuous.

"Sorry." I apologized, taking a seat, setting the napkin on my lap, civilly.

"Troy, why is your face red?" My mother asked, looking a bit regaled.

"Uh . . . well, from practicing." I responded, discomfited.

I looked down to the food in front of me. "Wow, it looks great, mom." I gave her a forced beholden smile.

She returned the smile, and I knew she wasn't going to continue on with the subject. "So, how was your first day as a junior?" She gave me interested eyes, as I began to gradually shove spaghetti down my throat.

"It was all right."

"You think you're ready for the big game?" My dad asked - which wasn't surprising. He couldn't manage to ask me about anything besides basketball. That was all we had in common. We weren't extremely close, I guess you could say. He didn't really listen to me or want to talk to me about anything, and when he did, it was just awkward . . . for both of us.

"Yeah, the first game's always exciting." I glanced away for a second, feeling pressured by the extremity of his eyes on me.

"I assume you'll be working hard tomorrow during practice?"

"Yes sir." Why didn't I just salute him while I was at it?

* * *

"So, I was just like, so, Sharpay, you're hot, and she was like, oh, really? And I was like, oh yes baby, and she was like . . . don't talk to me like that, Zeke. And I was like, I can't resist you, you're one hot mama. And then she was like, I don't like you. I like Troy." Zeke continued on, as we made our way towards second hour.

I rubbed my forehead, tensely. "Dude, just stop, seriously." I was still tired.

"I can't believe that whore is still waiting for you." Zeke sounded disappointed. "You need to seriously tell her you don't like her."

"Look, man, I'm totally not feeling it today, so can we just lay off the drama for once? Thanks." I grumbled, petulantly.

"Damn, T. What's with you today? You seem so, irritable, dude." Zeke observed.

I stopped at my locker. "It's just . . . my dad's all freaking out over the first game already." I purposely hit my head against the locker. "_Already_, and it's like, three weeks from now."

"Your dad is so," He began.

I cut him off, "Don't say it, man."

"Militant," I groaned as he uttered the horrifying truth, "seriously, but your mom is," He began.

I rolled my eyes, cutting him off quickly, "Dude, don't say it."

"_Sexy,"_ I clapped my hand across my eyes, shaking my head.

"Dang it, Zeke."

"I know, I know. ‛She's gross, cough, wheeze, blah, blah.'" Zeke folded his arms.

"No, that's just disgusting, man - that's my _mom_. I got my genes from her - seriously, you're practically calling me sexy. And that's kinda freaking me out." I muttered, spinning my combination.

"Hey don't you go all Clay Aiken on me, dawg. You know I'm no homo." Zeke reminded me, humorlessly.

"I wasn't going all Clay Aiken. You're just obsessing over my mom, and that's just kinda weird. I mean, remember, I'm the one who's related to her." I grabbed a few books out of my locker, taking a glance at myself in a mirror I had, winking, than slamming the door shut.

"No, but seriously, like, that freaks _me_ out. That whole thing you do, like, women do that, Troy." Zeke gave me a wigged out expression. "That whole wink thing. It almost beats out when you took me to that tanning place that one day. . ."

"Man, will you just forget about that already? It was _one_ time." I mumbled, leaning against my locker.

"Dude, it's kinda hard, when you take a guy who's already dark to a tanning bed. My ass was burning for about three weeks. You don't understand that I have a _sensitive_ ass."

"Well, you didn't have to go all commando on the tanning bed, man." I grumbled, quietly, "Honestly man, that was stupid."

"Well, sorry, Troy, I'll remember to be like you and go tanning in my _boxers_." I rolled my eyes to the loudness of his comment.

"And what about that time Troy - when you took me to get my hair done? That was gross man, how those women acted like you were the hair king or something. "Oh my god, Troy, your hair is so cute, and so pretty. I just love it. I have to put this stuff in it, and that stuff, and oh my god, do you want highlights, Troy?"

I began walking away from him. "Shut up, Zeke."

He walked after me, "Or that time that you kept like messing with Chad's hair. And you were like talking about how soft it was."

"It is soft." I murmured. "Even you said that once."

"Man, that wasn't the point - and the fact that you haven't done a woman before. Seriously, what's with you and the V card man, when's that gonna take place?"

"I'm about to turn around and stick my foot up your--"

"---And the fact that you aren't even attracted to the new girl. That's fucked up, man. Plus, that day that Sharpay came in, half-naked, and you were all like . . . ew. Like, sometimes I seriously question your sexuality, Troy."

"Zeke!" I shouted, turning around to face him, fed up with his comments. "You have got to be kidding me. I think she's hot, all right? I'm a guy, what do you expect? I just don't sit there and talk about it in public. Honestly, I think it's kinda rude when you tell her perverted things to her face. She looks a bit repulsed by it. There, are you happy?"

"_Whoa_ - hot damn." I began to walk away from him again, and he continued following. "So you like her?"

"And _this_ is why I don't talk to you about things." I continued walking, agitated.

"Dude, you need to like, tap that shit. She was all over your ass yesterday."

"What about you? I thought you were going to." I didn't glance over to him.

"Hell, if I can. She kept ignoring me, dawg. She was all into you though, all flirting and shit. Do you even understand how sexy that woman is?"

"She's my next door neighbor."

"She's your next door . . . what the fuck, Troy?" He had stopped and staring blankly at me, as if he didn't believe me.

I sighed, stopping also. "What? She lives next door to me. I didn't know until last night when I was outside playing basketball. She came over and talked to me."

"You lucky slut," He muttered, "so when are you gonna do her?"

"This subject is so irrelevant. I have two things on my mind this year; basketball and school. My dad will pummel me if I slack off." I turned towards the hallway towards second hour.

"Okay, okay, whatever. You're crazy as hell, man. But, can I have her?" He asked, ganging up alongside of me, anxiously.

"Dude, I really don't care. I don't know why it even matters what I say, considering the fact that I don't even know her well enough to like her. Plus, she doesn't seem like my type."

"Your type - man, what the hell is your type - Sharpay?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Why are you like, obsessing over my love life, man? I mean, you guys are _always_ on me. It gets kinda old, you know? Why can't you just let me be?" I was at the door of my second hour.

"Because, you're missing out on a lot - I mean, haven't you ever thought about doing stupid shit just once?" Why was he even bringing this up now? "I mean. . . I talked to Gabriella, and we're gonna smoke some after school today. She wanted you to come."

I rolled my eyes. "I have _practice_, and so do you."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure your dad can handle the sick excuse. Just tell him you had to take care of a school test or something." He persuaded, stopping in front of me.

"Zeke, man, I can't. This is idiotic. I don't need this kind of stuff in my life just to have a good time. Plus, my dad wouldn't believe any of that." I pushed passed him. "You and Gabriella can have your good time together."

And as I walked into the classroom, I heard Zeke snicker, "Pussy."

I sighed, frustrated, heading towards my seat. I felt someone poke me on the shoulder. I turned around to face an elated Sharpay Evans, looking great, as usual, her flowing golden-blonde hair down to the edge of her shoulders, her eyelashes batting at me, trifling. "Hi Troy," She shrieked, excitedly. "You're not mad about what happened with Gabriella yesterday, are you? That bitch started it. She's such a whore. She likes about five guys already. Did you know that?"

I gave her a polite, forced smile. "I'm not mad Sharpay. . . and that's. . horrible." I honestly didn't really care what she had to say, it was always untrue or some kind of rumor. It never really made any sense, nor was it out of pure honesty.

"Oh, Troy, it is." She grinned at me, cutely. "That pig, Zeke, tried to ask me out again."

"Yeah, I heard." I murmured, rubbing my neck, looking at the clock.

"Ew, gross, that man needs to be put on a leash. You know?"

"I can't agree with you more." I honestly couldn't.

"So, you're totally not interested in that stupid little slutty bitch are you?" She sounded egotistic, as if she assumed I wouldn't be. "I sure hope not. She seems like she just wants to make you her toy. She totally is trying to mess with my brother, that dumb bitch." She kind of just goes on and on, and I'm already tuning her out.

_I believe I can fly._

What the?

_I believe I can touch the sky._

_I think about it every night and day._

I made a face. Sharpay continued squeaking on like an obnoxious wound up Furby or something. Meanwhile, I kept hearing R. Kelly in my head.

_Spread my wings and fly away._

_I believe I can soar._

_I see me running through that open door._

By now, it was all getting kind of weird.

_

* * *

END OF CHAPTER._

Ha. Troy's mind is a bit twisted. I hope you enjoyed Zeke in this chapter. I'm trying to make him stand out as the annoying friend, since he never really got a chance to be a person in HSM. Chad will come in eventually and make things exciting. Because everybody loves Chad, including myself. Troy's sexuality thing is amusing to me because people assume Zac Efron is gay. Which is funny because I don't think so? Some people are just ignorant. : P. HSM3 comes out Friday. Yaaay. REVIEW for updates.

-Whitney.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

"_I never said I'd take this lying down."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

_Troy's Mind-_

It didn't really surprise me that Zeke was upset with me when I walked into Art class that day. It was just as immature and deficient as something he'd do. Plus, he was far too busy obsessing over Gabriella to even think of anything else.

"You look _so_ good today, Gabriella." He complimented her, putting on a large grin.

Well, she always looked good, so that wasn't much of a shock. She had her hair in two braids, and she wore these short jean shorts, and I'm telling you, they reminded me of a little farmer girls' shorts, they were so short - they literally went up her. . .

Yeah. And she wore this revealing sea-colored tank top. Zeke, sitting right next to her, well he had full display, if you know what I mean.

"You already said that," She muttered, obviously fed up with his comments. She looked to me, "so are you coming with us tonight, Troy?"

The indignation from earlier overwhelmed me. I looked away from her intense, large brown eyes, "No."

"What the hell? And just why not?" She looked furious when I looked back to her. It was almost as if her innocent chestnut eyes just turned into a hellion red. It kind of freaked me out.

"Like I said before," I repeated, "I'm in basketball, I have to stay clean."

She snorted, "Smoking a little isn't going to completely ruin you. God damn, Troy - have a little fun." Her voice was rising. Why did she even care if I came anyways?

"Troy's afraid." Zeke added in, disputably.

I rolled my eyes, "You guys are crazy. It's not that, I just _can't_. You know, you guys can do what you want, just count me out." The two shared disgruntled frowns.

"Eh, looks like it'll be just me and you." Zeke announced, winking at Gabriella, with infatuation. I think she cringed, though I couldn't really tell, I was busy working on my art project.

"Oh, that'll be just _delightful_." She murmured, dryly, and I could tell she was being sarcastic.

The rest of class seemed a bit too quiet. It was astonishing for Zeke to actually keep his mouth shut for once, and a bit peaceful. Gabriella didn't say anything either, she just kept to herself and continued her art project.

* * *

_Bolton Residence-_

"I just am sick of you sitting around all the time, Troy!"

"Dad, I _told_ you, I can retake it."

"Is this what college is going to be like? Am I going to waste all that money for nothing?" His voice continued to upsurge, angrily.

"Jack, please, if he can retake the test, then I'm sure it'll be okay." My mother always tried to make the situation more quiescent.

My father, of course, rejected, "Damn it. If he's going to be making these kinds of marks in college then he'll never make it." He glared at me, unappreciatively, "You have basketball to work on too. Slacking off in school isn't going to get you anywhere."

I rolled my eyes at him, beginning to head towards my room, "I'm not."

"You better not! I expect a _lot_ better then this." He snarled back at me, bitterly.

I walked into my room and collapsed on my bed, morosely. I looked up to the ceiling with frustration. Why did he have to put so much pressure on me _all_ the time? My dad was far too tense, far too uptight, and paranoid about everything. I was more the opposite, I wanted to have just a normal, easygoing life, without the adversity on top of me the entire time. I just wanted to _live_.

I sighed, sitting up. I grabbed my backpack and began shuffling through my homework, grasping onto my last test. Why was a C such a big deal, anyways? I was going to retake the test and make it an A. Yet, somehow, he had to find it.

I looked through the answers, attempting to memorize them. I had all advanced classes, Academic Honors - I was one of the smartest guys in the school. Yet, he always had to jump on me about _everything_. It's not like he motivated me, because he didn't. I just felt like it was required. If I didn't get good grades, I don't know what would happen. I guess living a perfect life has its disadvantages.

I was already exhausted from basketball practice. I felt like I was about to pass out on my bed. I was _so_ tired. I grabbed my basketball from the side of the room. I had to let off some steam. It was about seven o'clock, and the sun was setting. I shrugged it off, jogging outside.

Albuquerque's sunset seemed so colorless for some reason. Most of the lands were a dirty, tawny color. You get used to it eventually.

As I began to dribble it up, I heard a noisy, liberal car pull into the driveway of the house adjacent to mine—Gabriella's. Sure enough, it was Zeke's vehicle. He always had a huge, junkyard-like truck, that couldn't run for anything. And when it did run, you could hear it from miles away. They both hopped out of the truck, laughing hysterically. I found myself staring, disrespectfully, but I didn't care.

She was _dangling_ from him, as if they were boyfriend and girlfriend or something. She couldn't stop giggling at everything. He was wobbling, as if he was messed up, or couldn't see what he was doing.

"That was _so_ fun." I heard him mutter, exhilarated.

She only giggled louder, "I know. You are _such_ the stud." I rolled my eyes, how many guys has she said that to in her lifetime?

"So, Baby G, I'm gonna let you off here. I gotta get home." Zeke confessed, giving her an apologetic smile.

"Okay dokey." She responded, rather dizzily.

He let her go, and I was flabbergasted. I was expecting her to fall over instantly, being released from his grasp. He headed towards his beat up truck, and started ignition, driving away. I watched him drive down the road, in the middle of the road. Yeah, he was definitely not qualified for driving tonight.

And almost on cue, Gabriella fell over, flat on her face. I almost felt sorry for her. She looked so helpless. But at the same time, I knew why. I watched for a long time, as she attempted to make her way back towards her house. I assumed her parents weren't home—no cars were located in the driveway.

She was trying to get up the steps of the porch, when I could tell she was slipping backwards. She looked so skittish. She was in the process of falling, when I darted over towards her, breaking her fall.

"_Troy_." She slurred, in response to noticing my face. "You're too sweet."

"Gabriella, you can't make it up the stairs. You're going to kill yourself." I stated, as if it was just as simple as that.

She glared at me, "I can _too—_it's just so slippery. Did it snow?" She asked bursting out into laughter, hysterically, tears practically running down her eyes.

"And this is why I don't drink or smoke." I muttered to myself, grabbing her by the arm, and helping her up the steps.

"Hey, you sexy beast . . . I can help myself, thanks," She garbled, weakly trying to push me out of her way, "you should take those clothes off—it's too hot for you to be wearing them." She grinned.

"You're crazy, you do need my help." I informed her, grabbing her arm again, which she jerked away. "_Gabriella_," I gritted my teeth, agitated, "look, do you wanna break your head open?"

"Your hair is _so_ perfect, God, beautiful." She began to stroke my hair, absentmindedly.

I rolled my eyes, hauling her up the stairs. It wasn't working very well she was far too preoccupied with my hair and wouldn't cooperate with me.

"Gabriella," I mumbled, aggravated, "leave my hair alone."

"But it's _so_ pretty - prettier then my hair. If I had a Barbie, you'd be my Barbie."

"That's promising." I groaned, and then picked her up from her sides, lifting her in the air. She fusilladed into a bunch of giggles.

"Ah, are we going to go make love?" She slurred, smiling.

"No, do you have a house key?" I inquired, frowning as we approached the door, her in my arms. For a short, petite woman, she sure seemed heavy.

"You're _so_ strong. You're like Mr. Clean." She smirked wider, "You have the key to my heart."

I shook my head, "Gabriella, a _house_ key, I said - as in, a way to get into the house? That is, unless you want me to shove your head through the window. And I can't say that would be comfortable."

"You're going to shove my head through a window?!" She shrieked, and pushed me away frenetically. Unexpectedly, I let her go, falling backwards. I caught myself before slipping down her porch's stairs.

"It's down my shirt." She said, smiling.

I rolled my eyes, "Somehow I don't believe that."

"Well why don't you go down and find out?" She suggested, the smile not faltering.

"You're _insane_." I gave her wide eyes.

"_Eccentric_." She smirked, dauntlessly. "You know I'm afraid of the dark." She pointed one of her fingers onto my black v-neck shirt. "I have to put a night light on."

"Awesome." I didn't really know how to respond to that. Here we were, standing on her porch, not really knowing what to do. Or at least, I didn't know what to do. She was too incognizant to even know what was going on, just standing there, leaning on her houses' siding, her eyes cloudy.

"Are you _scared_ of me, Troy?" She asked, sharply, batting her eyelashes at me.

I folded my arms, looking away from her, "You know it's not really the time to talk about things like this. I need to know where your home keys are at, Gabriella."

She only whisked closer towards me, grinning, naughtily, "You _are_. Why do I scare you?"

The closeness of her lips to mine made me uncomfortable. I turned my head away, unable to resist the temptation of being that close. "Gabriella. You're wasted."

"I got _crunk_." She corrected, jabbing a sloppy finger at me - as if that changed anything. "Why don't you like me Troy?"

I looked at her for a second, befuddled by her question. "I _know_ you don't. You're afraid of me!" Her tone changed dramatically, now she sounded angry. Her anger faltered quickly though. "I think you're cute."

I looked away from her; I was speechless to her ‛crunk' confessions.

Something deafening interrupted the silence between us. A silver Kia Rondo pulled into Gabriella's driveway. And then it hit me—it was her parents. I froze up, suddenly a bit nervous. What was I going to say? I found your daughter like this? Great - now they're gonna talk to my dad and I'll be in big trouble.

"Fuck, it's _them_." She grumbled, nonchalantly. "They're gonna shoot me."

"Don't be so dramatic." I said underneath my breath.

They reminded me of her in many different ways. Her mother was more like a duplicate of her, with a much bigger nose, and extra wrinkles. And her father, well, he seemed extremely prudish with his dark suit and his glasses. They advanced towards us, a look of turbulence in both of their faces.

"I. . . I found her here, like this. I was going to help her get in but she didn't know where the house key was." I stammered, quickly, as they looked to me with curiosity.

Her mother approached her, observing her with disapproving eyes. "Gabriella? What the hell is going on?" She asked, suddenly irascible.

"_He_ was going to shove my head through a window." Gabriella pointed to me, glaring. Then, her mood changed within a second. She smiled. "I smoked. It was nice." She giggled, erratically.

Her dad frowned at me, "You did this?"

"No!" I quickly exclaimed. "I was walking outside, about to play some basketball and I seen her stumbling towards the door. She was about to break her back, sir."

"Damn it, Gabriella. What has gotten into you?" Her father grimaced at her, looking like he was about to seriously smack her in the face. He looked to me, a sudden repentant expression on his face. "I'm sorry - thanks to trying to help out my daughter."

"Yeah, no problem sir." I answered, swiftly, as Gabriella's mother opened the front door. I watched as Gabriella's father forced her into the house, a resentful look on his face. I almost felt bad for her. Then again, she did it to herself.

"Goodbye. . ." Her mother looked to me, skeptically.

"Troy, Troy Bolton. My family lives next door." I answered, nodding at her.

"Thank you, Troy." And before I knew it, they all slammed the door on my face.

I stood there for a second, my hands in my pockets. Crazy family. . . I thought, sighing. I then headed back towards my house.

* * *

"And it was . . . _hot_." Zeke continued, exasperated. "You need to get some of that."

I chuckled, over the phone, "Not my type."

"Right, well guess who also has a date with Sharpay this weekend?" I rolled my eyes. I really couldn't stand listening to Zeke brag about everything. It wasn't a surprise that he wasn't mad anymore. He always got over things in just a few hours. Either that or he just needed me around to boast about girls.

"I thought you liked Gabriella." I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I totally do, man. But a guy can never get enough pussy." I could just see him smiling from the other side of the phone. "Plus, I'm pretty sure Gabriella's getting more then one orgasm this week."

I coughed, "Dude, that's enough information."

He snickered, "I guess she's into Sharpay's brother."

I had to stop myself from gagging. "You mean the one that wears pink all the time?"

"Dude, Sharpay only has one brother. And that'd be him." Zeke answered.

"But, doesn't he do yoga or something?" I inquired, disgusted.

"Yeah, apparently, honestly, I think he's a fag. But whatever, man. As long as I can get next to Gabriella, it's fine with me."

"_Even_ if you're sharing her with a guy who does yoga?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in detestation.

"Dude, honestly, you tan in a tanning bed, so don't even start with that shit, dawg. You know damn well Ryan can't handle her. He'll like cum before she even begins to blow him. Then, she'll get away from him and we can call him a loser. And she'll be stuck with me—pimp daddy."

"_Pimp_ daddy?" I had to blink, "Zeke, it's kinda weird that you have this all figured out."

"Hell nah, man. I just like women, unlike someone I know."

"Man, you can stop with the jokes, already. I told you. I think she's hot; I'm just concentrating on grades and basketball. My dad almost killed me yesterday because I got a C in a test." I defended myself.

"Jesus, your dad is a hard ass." Zeke muttered. "Tell him to take a shit or something', dawg. I don't get why he's so stressed all the damn time."

"Yeah, I have no idea." I concurred. "He's mad that you weren't at practice though."

"Aw hell man. He can be mad all he wants. I'm jus' gonna say I was sick." Zeke seemed heedless to this.

"Troy?" My dad's voice echoed through my bedroom door.

I groaned, "Hey, man, I gotta go, he's calling me. I'll talk to you tomorrow at school."

"All right, later dawg." I hung up the cell phone, twirling around. My dad had already entered my room, without even knocking. Well, at least I knew that I had privacy.

"I heard you helped out our new neighbors." He had an unreadable expression on his face.

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused. "Well . . . their daughter was . . . unconscious." Well, more like _crunked_, if that works. As if my dad actually knows what that means though.

"Mr. And Mrs. Montez just came over and told us about it. They invited us over for dinner tomorrow night." His tone was still rigid and stringent.

Oh, that'll be interesting. I couldn't help but cringe a little. "Oh . . . really?" I faked a modest expression.

"Yes. They seemed extremely captivated by your generosity." Suddenly, something weird happened to my dad's face—he smiled. "Well done, son." And then he patted me on the back, turning around, and heading out of my bedroom.

Bizarre much?

* * *

"But dude I helped her. . ."

"Dude, she was like falling over." I corrected Zeke, as we headed towards the lunch line.

"I can't believe that you're gonna be over at her house for _dinner_. You could seriously pop her cherry." Zeke encouraged, grabbing a chocolate milk carton.

"Man, just stop talking like that, for just once." I begged. "She thinks I'm _scared_ of her."

"I think you are too." Zeke was eating one of the apples he had grabbed from the line.

"Man, you can't eat in the line! You're gonna get in trouble again." I muttered, shaking my head, disapprovingly.

"Aw, bite me, Troy. You're such a pussy bitch. Seriously, take a shit for once. Have a little fun - go nuts." Zeke handed me an apple, "Take a bite, you fuck."

"You're insane." I put the apple back immediately. "Just because I _avoid_ getting in trouble, I'm afraid of her? That doesn't make sense."

"Just admit it, dude. She scares you shitless. But at the same time, you want her so bad that you would go to the end of the world and back for her." Zeke stated, dramatically.

"You're talking about _yourself_. It's just, my dad's already on me. Why rub it in?" I grabbed a pop tart. "Do you understand why they even sell these anymore? Nobody buys them." I put it back down.

"No dude. But you know the cereal here is the _shit_." Zeke commented, grabbing three tiny boxes of cereal.

"Yeah, that's the truth." I supported, grabbing a box of Captain Crunch, "No, but seriously, man. I mean, why should I make my dad even madder?"

"I dunno dawg. You're always kissing his ass. I don't get why he's even on you like that. You get good grades, you do what you're told, you never disobey him, yet he's still like a splinter in your ass." Zeke paid for his food, waiting for me. "Seriously, I've been waiting for you to just say fuck it man." I paid for the food, the lady at the cashier smiling at me dreamily. I shuddered as I followed behind Zeke, heading back to our table. "That chick so wants your cock."

"That's really not helping the situation," I muttered, disgusted, "especially when you word it so vulgarly."

We took a seat by Chad and Taylor McKessie—Chad's ex-girlfriend. They were talking amongst each other, pretty animatedly. Chad loved her for the longest time. And I'm pretty sure he's still not over her.

"Oh damn," Zeke breathed, pessimistically, "look—gay man's getting some action." His eyes were trailing over towards the opposite side of the cafeteria. I followed them, loyally. I found myself glancing at an elated Ryan Evans, who was sitting at a table with Sharpay Evans, who was boiling. Gabriella was standing by Ryan, talking to him - well it looked more like flirting with him.

I flickered my eyes away, in annoyance. Whore.

"Are you talking about Ryan Evans and Gabriella Montez?" Taylor inquired, looking to Zeke. What was this like a big deal now? She looked interested. "She wants him and he wants her. It's kinda cute, considering they're complete opposites."

"I thought she liked you man." I muttered to Zeke, sardonically. He looked crushed.

"Well, like I said, it's kind of a mattering of sharing, man." Zeke didn't sound as ecstatic about this as he was before. "And I'm well . . . cool with that." He didn't sound sincere.

"She's kind of a whore." Chad added, "I can't believe she thinks she can play so many guys at the same time. Plus, weirdly enough, she flirts with the physics teacher all the time." He flinched, with a foul look on his face.

"Zeke, dude, you're so wasting your time." I looked to my friend, apologetically.

"Hell no - I've got Sharpay's fine ass this weekend. It's okay." He didn't look okay.

What was the big deal about this girl? Honestly? I didn't get it. "Dude, why are you so fascinated by this girl? She's just . . . a girl. And I mean she honestly seems kind of . . . loose." The term seemed to fit her.

"Yeah, that's the point, you idiot." Zeke seemed angry now. "She's _different_. She's not like the dumb ass preppy bitches in this school. She's just . . . unique, man."

We watched as she walked away from Ryan, leaving him in a daydream-like state. I didn't really understand why guys were so infatuated with her. She was hot, but with how whipped these guys were, it was getting kind of weird. And she was about to hurt one of my best friends, I knew that. He wasn't into Sharpay, he was into Gabriella.

"Dude, she's coming over here." I heard Chad remark, impassively.

I watched as she walked over towards us, in her tight black pants that hugged her bottom accordingly, and her hot-pink tank top that seemed to reveal a bit too much of her stomach. You'd think she'd get in trouble for wearing such provocative clothing. I watched Zeke's face—he was practically drooling. And even Chad looked as if he was out of this world. I looked up to her, and I froze. She was doing that thing with her lips again, the corner of them curving. I about passed out.

"Hey _men_," She wore a racy smile as she plopped down in between Chad and Zeke. They both looked breathless. She continued flicking her glamorous ebony-colored hair and batting her eyelashes, "what are you guys up to?" She asked, so innocently.

"E-excellent," Chad stammered in response. I noticed Taylor looking away, rolling her eyes in annoyance. I could tell she didn't like Gabriella so far, ". . . Yourself?"

She ignored his question, and her eyes landed on me. I felt my heart stop for a second, and I looked away, trying to avoid the intensity of her eyes. "Troy?"

"Alright." I answered, not meeting her eyes.

"Fuck Troy, woman. I'm good as _hell_." Zeke interrupted. I heard Gabriella laugh, lightly. Obviously she could stand him now - only because he smoked with her.

"Oh, Zeke," She giggled, hysterically, like a hyena, "last night was _so_ fun. We have to do it again."

"Damn straight - anytime." He winked at her.

"What'd you guys do?" Chad asked, inquisitively.

"Smoked it up, of course." Zeke boasted, flashing a pair of teeth.

I looked at Chad, wondering what his reaction to this would be. He was like me in a lot of ways; mostly he didn't do those kinds of things. He was more reserved, and basketball was his life, so he knew he couldn't. Of course, he ended up faking a smile.

"Cool." He commented.

"Wanna join us sometime?" Gabriella inquired a persuading smile on her lips.

"You know, I think I forgot something in my locker." I suddenly said, getting up, stammering out of the lunch room, and not wanting to hear anymore. Were they going crazy? They were practically throwing away their basketball dreams.

I headed to my locker, just standing there for a second, staring at it, lost in thought. Now Chad was going to start liking her too. What was she trying to do? Corrupt all of my friends? I sighed, opening my locker, and grabbing my books.

_

* * *

END OF CHAPTER_

Okay. So now, I'm sitting here listening to _can I have this dance_? :) Good song. Haha. All right, well remember to leave a review. : P. Love, Whitney.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Darlings! Thanks so much for your reviews. I enjoy writing this story because I find Gabriella and Zeke irresistible. Aha. Of course. And Troy, who's the innocent guy. Duh. But will Gabriella convert him over? Scary thought. Can you imagine Zac Efron smoking pot? He'd be a sexy bad boy. All right aaha. I'm done talking. : P. Don't forget to leave a review. PS; I really enjoyed HSM3's _Scream_ act that was beautiful. He was beautiful. Ha. I was like, wow. Troy's _pissed_. : P Love always, Whitney.

* * *

"_You're a touch overrated. You're a lush, and I hate it."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE

_Gabriella's Mind-_

_[Physics before the day of the Bolton/Montez dinner]_

"I didn't know that we had homework in this class." I muttered, satiated by the sudden collection of papers in physics.

Sharpay just rolled her eyes, "We have homework in this class _every_ day, as if today would be any different, Gabriella."

"Where the fuck is your brother? He should be here—giving me answers." I deflected my eyes over to the empty seat in front of me, the seat where Ryan usually sat.

"Ugh." Sharpay shrieked, revolted. I suddenly wished that I owned earplugs. "Isn't there _anything_ that will keep you from screwing with my brother, Gabriella? Seriously - I will give you my wardrobe if you leave him alone."

"What's the fun in having a bunch of pink clothes?" I mimicked. "How boring can you seriously get? And there's not much you can do. Sorry, bitch."

She looked like she was about to explode. "What have I ever seriously done to _you_?"

"Nothing."

"Then why do you feel the need to keep butchering me like that?"

"I wasn't butchering you. Butchering would be grabbing an ax and skinning you to death." I informed her, dryly.

She wrinkled her nose, "Whatev - I think you're just po'ed because Troy Bolton doesn't want to get in bed with you." Her lips formed to a baneful, disgusting smirk.

I glared at her. "Hell, that's the last of my worries. It's not like he wants to get with you either, sister."

"Humph. Well I don't _want_ him anymore. There's a new boy in my Composition class. He's like, whoa gorgeous." Sharpay squealed, excitedly, suddenly a smile appearing on her face. Stupid, preppy, bipolar dumb asses. . .

"Whoa gorgeous? That's the most annoying phrase I have ever heard in my life. And if you're not messing with Troy anymore, then. . ." I suddenly grinned, having an idea. "Tell me about him."

"What?" Sharpay looked befuddled.

"Troy Bolton," I clarified, watching her with intense eyes, "I might just leave your brother alone if you do." Ha. Yeah right, I would still most definitely fuck with that kid, but I need to know why Troy Bolton is so petrified of me.

"Wait. Are you serious?" Sharpay was definitely buying it.

"Hell yeah, woman - you give me deats on that sexy man and I will stay off of your bro, for sure. Troy is like, the definition of hot. Your brother is just nerdy in a cute way."

"Please," She looked as if she was about to hurl, "My brother is so gross. You should try living with him. He's a pig, despite how he acts in school." She cringed.

"_Right_, so, Troy Bolton, tell me everything you know about him." I grinned, feeling accomplished that I manipulated Sharpay into agreeing to this.

She still looked unsure, but began, anyways. "Um . . . well, he's kind of really obsessed with basketball. His number is fourteen, and he's the star basketball player of our school. Chad's his best friend, Chad and Zeke. His dad is the basketball coach. . ." She was basically telling me things I already knew.

"Dude, I fucking know that shit already. Tell me something I _don't_ know." I pleaded, rolling my eyes, as I began copying her physics homework.

"Um . . . well, last year, he tried out for a musical in drama and he got the part, but then he ditched out because his dad found out and made him - and, because Chad and Zeke wouldn't leave him alone about it. He was really good though. Like, he had the most amazing singing voice. And he can dance like a pro." She gushed, looking extremely infatuated by this.

"Wait, he _sings_?" I raised an eyebrow. That's something I wouldn't have expected. "He's a musical guy? Like, you're serious?"

"_Yes_. I swear." She looked dead-serious. "He's really good. He supposedly joined as a joke, his friends dared him. But I think he liked it. He was extremely good at being optimistic about it. I got to dance with him a few times, and sing with him. It was beautiful." Once again, she was in some kind of _I-love-Troy-Bolton_ trance.

"That's . . . weird." I couldn't find a better word. He was an athlete, not a ballerina. I wouldn't have expected that in a thousand years. Most kids get made fun of for being involved in drama arts—at least, guys that is. I guess it's understandable why he stopped, Zeke and Chad probably did taunt him like crazy.

"Yeah, but secretly, I think he likes it. That's just me though." She shrugged.

"Okay . . . but what the fuck turns him on? Seriously, he's like impossible." I sighed. "Like, does he not get turned on? Does he even have a penis, seriously? I mean, he doesn't flirt, he winks or smiles, and that's just not good enough."

"Yeah, that's his way of flirting." Sharpay snickered. "Everybody knows about _the wink_. When he winks at you, you know he's trying."

"Trying to act like he's attracted to me? He's ridiculously timid." I furrowed my eyebrows. "I mean, am I going to have to literally flash him just to make his eyes look at me?"

"You just might have to." Sharpay looked diverted by this. "I've been trying for years - he still hasn't acknowledged me like that. And everybody knows that he's too hot to be a homo." She suddenly smiled. "Are you falling for him?"

"What the _hell_ girl? I don't fall for guys. I just don't understand why he's like, revolted or something." Falling for him? She must have lost her mind.

"Maybe he does like you, he's just . . . not used to being flirted with. I don't know, Gabriella." Sharpay's eyes gazed to the front. "He's hard to read. That's why I give up." She looked back to me. "I mean, I've been friends with him for awhile."

"Could you, I dunno, _help_ me?" I inquired, suddenly feeling stupid. Why the hell was I so desperate to get with this kid - because he's super-hot? Yeah, that's gotta be it.

"God, Gabriella. Yesterday you were yelling at me, now you're asking me for help?" Sharpay looked annoyed by this.

"Yeah, well, I must have judged you wrong or something. It just pissed me off how you were like cutting your fingernails into Troy." I shrugged.

"My nails are just long—they tend to make it seem like I'm strangling someone." Sharpay didn't even look insulted.

"So, you'll help me or not? I'll give you money, clothes, whatever you want." Damn, I was despondent. She even looked surprised by this. I don't know how she'd even help me. I guess I figured she knew a hell lot more about him then I did.

"We'll go shopping." She was beaming now, as if I had just said the right thing exactly.

"Um . . . okay?" Weird girl.

"Come with me after school today. We'll watch them practice. That new stud I was telling you about is on the team, too." She smirked, skittishly.

Our teacher, (the hot ass Mr. Messacar) was already teaching when we both looked back to the board. As if on cue, someone came trudging through the door—Ryan. I grinned, but then realized what I had told Sharpay.

Note to self: Do not flirt with Ryan when Sharpay's around.

Damn, and to think I thought there'd be no rules.

* * *

_Art Class—Day of Montez/Bolton Dinner._

Art class was really boring. And I mean, really boring. Zeke was loud and annoying, as usual, while Troy and I just sat there, tight-lipped. Sharpay would wave to me anxiously from across the room now. I seriously think she was getting a bit obsessed with me, too. What was up with the wildcats? They were all so addicted to new students.

"_Dude_. . . I seen rainbows and Mufasa." Zeke continued on.

"Mufasa is the shit, don't knock him. And I was with you, dumb ass." I reminded him, chuckling, as I continued molding the clay I had in my hands.

"Hell no - Scar was the pimp in that movie, I dunno what you're talking' about, sweet cheeks." Zeke only shook his head.

"_Sweet cheeks_?" I almost threw up, "that's a new one, Zeke."

"Damn straight. You have some sweet cheeks, girl! Don't she, aye, Troy?" Zeke's eyes flickered over to Troy, who was extremely concentrated in his project. I couldn't help but smirk at him. He looked so engrossed, with his light ebony-colored shorts and neon-green sweatshirt. He even had those adorable checkered tennis on (vans, I think?). And plus, his hair, as always, was tossed to perfection. Damn.

"Dude, talk my man." Zeke begged, looking to Troy, who didn't look up.

"Yeah, Zeke," Troy finally agreed, not enthused. I rolled my eyes. He truly was difficult, was he not? I mean, what have I ever done to him . . . besides well, him having to deal with me stoned.

"Hey thanks for ditching me the other day, you fucking douche bag." I snarled to Zeke, recalling the incident.

"Baby G, what you talking' ‛bout girl? I wouldn't ditch you for anything." He played innocent.

"Oh, I don't know, well, what about the time when I got you some dank and you dropped me off, and Troy had to babysit me?" Troy's eyes finally flickered up at my comment, and then he looked over towards Zeke, as if wanting an explanation.

"Ah." Zeke looked enlightened. "Well, shit, girl, I was just messed up, I didn't know what I was doin'. And T-man totally saved you, so it was okay, right?"

"Fuck that, what if _T-man_ wasn't around? I would have broken my head open." I grimaced at Zeke, who put his hands up, as if to protect himself from me.

"She's right. She could have. I was there." Troy finally pitched in, his eyes never leaving Zeke. "That was pretty low, man."

"Well, all right, you super fuck, I'm glad you saved the day, but I seriously didn't mean to leave like that. I was a bit fucked up though you wouldn't understand ‛cuz you too scared to do shit like that." Zeke provoked, glaring at Troy.

"Whatever, man." Troy looked infuriated by this and went back to his work, not saying any more.

I furrowed my eyebrows; so much for best friends forever, eh? Damn, it was like World War III over here.

"You guys ever take a shit in the morning? You need to chill out." I lectured them.

"Baby G, my bowl movements are none of your concern, ya dig?" Zeke was such a jackass.

"It was an expression. And no, I'm not a dog, I don't dig." I rolled my eyes, now understanding Troy's annoyance with this guy. He must have been mentally retarded. He just had to be. I heard Troy chuckle at my response.

"Thanks for helping me yesterday, Troy." I finally said, looking over to him, giving him a bawdy grin.

He returned the smile, politely, "Yeah, I guess your parents were pretty happy about it. They invited my family to dinner tonight."

I winced. _Seriously_ - were they on drugs? Were they drunk when they said this? They must have been out of their minds. Why in the world would they invite Troy's family over for dinner? Troy's family and my family, that's like, two different worlds. They could brag about Troy, while my parents could complain about me.

"Erm, right. That'll be . . . painful." I couldn't find a better word.

"Why do you say that?" He looked confused. Ah, the oblivion is back. _Knuckle head._

Blockhead - who was it in cartoons that always called their friends blockheads? I don't know, but they're my new idols.

"Because . . . well, shit, it'll be all like; Troy gets straight A's, is the star player of the basketball team, and my parents, they won't know what to say because I don't have any accomplishments." I chuckled, a bit embarrassed.

"I'm sure you have some." Troy said it so lowly, I'm positive he almost agreed with me, secretly.

"Baby G, I bet you're pretty damn good in bed, eh?" Zeke . . . the damn pervert.

"Dude, my sex life is none of your business, so please erect that into your rectum. Jesus, Zelda."

"Girl, you know my name, and you know I ain't no Nintendo 64 character, seriously - and what you talking' ‛bout rectums for?" I couldn't help but notice that Troy was about to burst out laughing.

"Dude whatever, I'm just saying, please mind your own business. I wasn't even talking to you." I was really getting sick and tired of this guy, seriously.

"Aw, damn. But I wanna talk too. We got high together; does that mean nothing to you now?" He acted like we were in love with each other for a year or something. He was getting all dramatic and shit. It was kind of disturbing.

"Dude, I get high with homeless people. That doesn't mean that we're giving each other Lumpkin's on the side." I rolled my eyes.

"What the hell is a Lumpkin?" Ha, ha.

"Don't worry ‛bout it, let's just say it has something to do with rectums." I have no idea why I kept talking about shit, but it was funny. And the fact that Zelda didn't know what a Lumpkin was . . . well, it amused me. "Anyways, Troy," I looked back to the beautiful blue-eyed Zac-Efron-Look-Alike next to me.

Yeah, did I mention Troy Bolton looks a lot like Zac Efron? How ironic.

"So you totally look like Zac Efron."

"Dude, he totally does. That is insane."

"Hey, Zoe? Please, shut up." I commanded, glaring at Zeke.

"It's _Zeke_." I think he was boiling by now. "But, man, Zac Efron is so cool. He's like my idol. Seriously, have you seen the way he dances?"

"Yeah. He sings real well too. Plus he goes out with that one chick."

"Vanessa Hudgens? Wow, she is fine." He licked his lips.

"If I was a guy, I'd do her."

"You kind of look like her." He smirked.

"Then if I was a guy I'd totally do myself." I confessed a bit confused on my own words. Troy was looking at us as if we were lunatics.

"If I was a guy I'd totally do you."

"Zelden, you are a guy."

"It's _Zeke_."

"Meh. They all start with Z's." I shrugged, heedlessly, than looked back to Troy, "So, you seriously do look like Zac Efron." He didn't respond, "I mean you've got his features. The only thing you're lacking is the name. I bet you were born in San Lupis Obispo secretly, and I bet you have a brother named Dylan, maybe he moved to Ireland and that's why he's not in New Mexico. And you even have a hint of the accent he does. It's weird that he has an accent but you can tell if you watch enough YouTube videos of him. I'm kind of weirdly obsessed with him, but that's okay. So if you were him, I'd have to take a picture with you and get your autograph. I bet Zeke would too." I didn't realize I was rambling on like a moron.

". . .Troy. You aren't Zac Efron are you?" Zeke was staring with wide eyes.

"You guys, you're giving me a headache." Troy muttered, rubbing his forehead.

"Sorry." We both said in unison.

* * *

_Afterschool-- Gymnasium-_

"Are you sure we don't look a little strange, just sitting here? I mean we are like the only one's watching them. It's kinda creepy. I would be freaked out." I couldn't help but feel stupid for being the only one's sitting on the bleachers, waiting endlessly for the men to come strolling out for basketball practice.

"I do this _all_ the time." Sharpay assured me, grinning. "You just wait until the end when they all are so sweaty and they take their shirts off because they're sweating so much."

"Damn, woman. Your mind is in the gutter. My mind is totally there with yours." I chuckled. But seriously, Troy with no shirt on= _Yow._

"They're coming. I can hear them." Sharpay informed me, as we heard a loud commotion of voices and running.

"It's like a God damn stampede. How can you not hear them?" I watched them all faultlessly run out to the court, in a huge line. Troy seemed to lead it, Chad running parallel to him. They wore jerseys, sporting their numbers, and of course, the title, _Wildcats_ - so mascot-obsessed.

"You guys are all so obsessed with wildcats. It's disgusting."

"It's our mascot." Sharpay acted as if it was dense of me to say such a thing.

"So? You guys have like thousands of mascot shirts. It's weird."

"They're required to wear those jerseys, Gabriella." Now she really was trying to make me feel idiotic.

"Dude, what the fuck ever, I'm just saying. You guys need to stop being so obsessive."

"So see number sixteen? That's my man." Sharpay pointed towards a guy with long, dark brown hair, and dark eyes. He was muscular, but definitely not as attractive as Troy.

"What's so great about him?" I asked, colorlessly.

"He's _dreamy_." She gushed, breathlessly.

"You are a fucking nut. He is like, a normal, boring guy. There's nothing special about him." You can tell I'm a very optimistic person.

"_Exactly_. But look at those muscles." She was in some daydream state by now.

"Um? He's kind of scrawny compared to Troy." I glanced over towards Troy, who had the most beautiful muscles on the universe. Never thought I'd say that, either. Chad looked pretty damn sexy in his jersey also.

"_Encourage_ me, Gabriella." Sharpay murmured, dryly.

"Oh . . . erm, right. Holy shit, that boy is fiiiiiine!" I elbowed her, dramatically.

Chad must have noticed us, or maybe he heard me bellowing like an imbecile. He stopped dribbling and looked up to us. He instantly grinned at the sight of me, and began to wave frantically. Troy stopped also, and curiously followed Chad's eyes. He didn't react, and muttered something to Chad. Chad frowned, but then followed Troy. They began to shoot hoops, as if they never seen us.

"You know Chad?" Sharpay asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Eh, he's kind of in one of my classes. I think he might like me. . ." I admitted, sheepishly.

"Wait, but that's Troy's best friend!" She turned to me, as if I was harebrained. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Geez, chill. I didn't ask him to like me. He comes to my locker sometimes."

"Do you flirt with him?"

"Uh, well, duh, he's fucking cute!" Her eyes were widening more and more. "Sharpay?" I inquired, confused on why she wasn't responding.

"Um, maybe Troy doesn't like you, because. . . I dunno, all of his friends like you?" She suggested, as if I was a dumb ass.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" I was getting agitated. "He gets all nervous and looks away from me—I seriously think he's just afraid of me."

"Well, shoot, Gabriella, I don't know. Maybe he does. Guys act nervous when they like you."

"It's impossible to get anything done with someone who's afraid of me." I groaned.

"Well, why _must_ you have Troy? I mean, if you're getting with Chad and Zeke--"

"Whoa, hell no, I am not getting with Zeke." I assured her, swiftly, and rigidly. "Zeke's a jackass, and he is a complete pervert. He gets on my nerves like crazy."

"I agree, but you've been hanging out with him. . ." Sharpay furrowed her eyebrows.

"That doesn't mean I like him. He's a lot of fun to smoke with, that's all. He can want me all he wants; he definitely isn't going to get me." I watched Troy make a hoop, high-fiving his friends. "I want the hottest guy in the school, that's who I want."

"So you can use him and abuse him?" Sharpay watched me with distraught eyes.

"_Yes_. I would just love to see what's underneath _that_." I smirked, evilly.

"You scare me." Sharpay uttered. "I can understand why you scare Troy."

"Whatever." I hissed. "I'll make him want me, Shar."

"You know, I'm not sure if I want to be involved in these conniving plans of yours anymore." Sharpay admitted, looking a bit terrified.

"Dude, stop freaking, okay? I'm _serious_."

"Wait, do you actually _want_ to hurt him? Because, I thought you were into guys who weren't going to get interested in you." Sharpay looked puzzled.

"Of course, there will be no strings attached. I'll just get him to do things with me."

"Are you sure he'd go along with that without caring?" Sharpay didn't seem convinced.

"He's a _guy_. He has to help his man pleaser sometime, you know?" I chuckled. "And most men don't care. So why would he? We're completely different people. He can't even stand half of the shit I do."

"Yeah, you're right." She finally agreed, watching them practice. "Damn, Danforth is sweating a lot."

I smirked, "Yeah. God, I just love his curls. Aren't they just adorable?"

Sharpay snickered, "_Duh_. So, where'd you move here from anyways? Were the guys hot there?"

"NYC, and yeah, they were really hot. I like your guys better though. They're all so innocent, you get to mold them."

"_Mold_ them?"

"Yeah; aren't half of them virgins?" I asked, grinning.

"Majority - and that's only because they're so picky." Sharpay responded, indifferently, "You've got them all lined up for you though. I don't know how you did it."

"Just a little charm, that's all." I shrugged. "Wow, I think Troy needs a shower." I couldn't help but giggle at the sight of how drenched he was with sweat. Hot, damn.

* * *

_After practice-_

"Come on, let's go talk to them." Sharpay persuaded me, practically dragging me off of the bleachers.

"Woman, chill out, they already think we're probably stalking them." I chuckled, following behind her, obediently.

She blew a raspberry, "Right. Hey guys! Wait up." She called out to them, boisterously. I'm surprised that people blocks away couldn't hear her. She really had a big mouth.

The entire team of wildcats turned around, and I noticed most of their faces darkening. The majority of them really did not like Sharpay. However, Chad's face seemed to lighten when he noticed me, and he began walking towards us. Wow, was I really that fascinating - seriously?

"Hey Gabriella, Sharpay." He cringed slightly just saying her name. The rest of the team, including Troy, followed reluctantly behind them. A lot of them just looked at us strangely, probably because we were _hanging _out.

"I, uh, well, I know this probably looks so weird - Sharpay and I are friends now." I explained, airlessly. Chad only raised an eyebrow, as did Troy.

". . . Ah, I see." Chad finally replied, then folded his arms.

"You guys did _awesome_." Sharpay gushed, elbowing me, as if hinting for me to say something.

I advanced towards the group, my eyes locking on Troy, trying to seduce him with my eyelashes, "Troy, that shot you made at the end - that was fucking hot."

Troy just shrugged, as usual, and looked a bit uncomfortable. "Yeah, thanks. . ." He said it appreciatively, but I could tell he was fidgeting, as if he was uneasy about it.

Chad was frowning. "Well, I'm gonna leave. I have to be home." He announced, looking suddenly really irritated. I raised an eyebrow, as he began strolling away, earning high-five's from some of his teammates on the way out of the gym.

"What the fuck is his problem?" I asked, perplexed.

"I dunno. I gotta get home though. I'll see you later tonight for dinner." Troy threw the basketball back to one of his teammates, and jogged off towards the locker room. His teammates followed him, loyally.

I stood there, gaping. "That's the most I've heard him say."

Sharpay laughed. "Oh my gosh. Chad got so pissed that you were flirting with Troy."

I groaned. "_Why_? He shouldn't even care!"

"Because he wants you all to himself—all guys do."

"No, they fucking don't, just you weird ass wildcats." I muttered, dryly.

"What are you going to do?" Sharpay asked, folding her arms, expectantly.

"Nothing - Chad doesn't own me. Hell, I never even told him I liked him."

"True, but he still looked pissed." Sharpay added.

"Ugh, I don't _care—_I'll do them all!" I declared, annoyed.

"Are you insane, Gabriella? They're all friends!" Sharpay shrieked at me, worriedly.

"So? I'm not committed to any of them. So it's okay." I assured her.

_

* * *

END OF CHAPTER._

Okay, fun times, yeah? Gabriella is such a whore. I love her. Hahaaa. Next year is the big Bolton/Montez dinner. Oh dear. Chad's crushing on Gabriella now. And what's gonna happen with Ryan? Will she be able to reject him in front of Sharpay? ;) Btw, Sharpay's cool now! They're going to be best friends. Yay. I hate making her mean in every single story. So this time she'll be cool. All right. Well leave a review if you want update. Let me know what's up. Oh, and if you want to know what a Lumpkin is (if you don't know like Zeke didn't) go to and search for it. Lmao. Love, Whitney.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hey everybody! Sorry I've been taking so long to update. Finals are coming up, and I'm like clustering my brain. It's crazy. HOWEVER, I am here making some Troyella time, of course. How could I resist? I'm looking forward to the movie, _17_ in which Zac stars in this April. Yes, I'm one of those crazy fan girls. I watch a lot of his interviews and all that jazz. Just can't resist the eyes. I'm glad you guys like what I did to the personalities here. Yes, Troy is like the innocent goody-two shoes boy, and Gabriella's like the complete opposite. And she likes _all_ his friends. Yet, now she can't talk to Ryan because she and Sharpay made a deal. : P. And Ryan is so cute, too. (Thumbs down) But go Troyella. Here we go. Don't forget to leave a review. Love always, Whitney.

* * *

"_Well cross my heart and hope to . . . I'm lying just to keep you here."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

_Troy's Mind-_

"Gosh, Troy," My mother complained, fixing my tie, so it became picture-perfect with my suit. "Will you ever learn how to work a tie?" She smiled through her age lines. Ridiculous how we got all dressed up for a dinner.

Then again, who could ruin the conservative way of attending a neighbor's house for dinner? It was almost routine for us to go _somewhere_. And it seemed like every single time, it just got even more formal. I mean, the first time we did this I was wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Now I'm wearing a suit and a tie.

"Now, remember to be polite." My dad lectured, his usual, militant voice following him as he patted me on the back, encouragingly.

"I'm sure they're wonderful people, Jack." My mother, being the optimist, always thought that every family had the same morals as we did.

"I'm sure." My father, being the hardheaded man he was, of course, wasn't convinced. He wrapped an arm around my mother's waist, as I followed behind, feeling more stupid then you could ever imagine. "Troy, introduce yourself, _politely_." He repeated.

"I will." I grumbled, following behind them.

New Mexico's heat greeted us as we walked outside. I already knew I was going to feel uncomfortable, but then again, I was so used to conventional clothing, it was impossible to even care that much. I think I was more nervous about the fact that it was _her_ family.

I just couldn't help but feel furious with the woman. I mean, she was playing all of my friends! Even Zeke thought he had a chance with her. It seemed heartless of her to just lead them on with such a delicate string. I mean, did she ever consider that they might actually have feelings? Plus, on the side, she kept trifling with me, like I was going to hook up with her. Right - not when she's messing with all of my best friends.

I rolled my eyes at the memory, as we stumbled onto the Montez's front porch. God, this was so embarrassing. We looked so prim and proper, you'd laugh. I mean, my dad stood with his arm gently wrapped around my mother's waist—not too tight, not too lethargic, my mother just smiled, heedlessly, and I just stood there, forcing a horrible smile. I mean, it was obvious I was _dying_ inside. Seriously - you'd have to be blind not to notice.

The door swung open only a minute after my dad rang the doorbell. I cringed, again. I really didn't want to be here, seriously. I would have done _anything_. I mean, even if I'd have to deal with Zeke for like three hours, I would totally do that.

Gabriella's parents appeared at the door, grinning cordially at us. I figured they would be pretty casual. I mean, her dad wore a simple pair of khaki dress pants, and a button-up long-sleeved shirt. Her mother wore pants, also. And here we were, dressed up like we were going to a business meeting. I frowned.

"Hello!" My mom gasped as they exchanged greets—shaking hands and whatnot. It was annoying, my parents putting on such a flawless show for them. I could tell my dad was _dying_ to make them feel inferior to him, yet he hadn't tried, not just yet.

"Troy, we meet again." Her mother looked to me, wrinkles evident as she smiles at me. I can't help but notice the similarities between her and Gabriella. She had the same almond-colored eyes, the same thick nose and lustrous bronze skin.

I extended a hand, "Hello, Mr. And Mrs. Montez." Yet again, I was forcing the words out of my mouth. I felt the disfavor towards my behavior hit. I couldn't stand pretending to be something I just wasn't.

"Ah, he's so handsome!" Gabriella's mother complimented, smiling at me. She looked back to her husband, "Where is Gabriella?" She asked annoyance in her voice.

"Eh, erm," He coughed, purposely, "Gabriella! Come down here!" He yelled up towards the stairs.

I couldn't help but feel even more intimidated. I knew she was just going to make this even worse. She was always so brutally honest. Would she be like that with her parents around? I didn't want to analyze it.

It took a few minutes before she descended the stairs, looking, well, hot as always. I mean, the girl didn't know what fancy was, had it hit her in the face. She wore a pair of tight jeans that hugged her noticeably, and a white tank top that said _Bad Girl_ across it. I almost chuckled at the sight of her. Her ebony-colored locks hung passed her shoulders, as usual, in large amounts of curls. I think my hormones acted up as she approached us. I became motionless.

"_Gabriella_." Her father gritted his teeth, looking down to his daughter with frustration.

"Sorry, old man. What's up?" She smirked, brashly, looking to my family and me.

I felt my cheeks heat up - God, how awkward. Seriously, we were _so_ socially awkward. What was wrong with us? Couldn't we just be more laid-back? We were so uptight.

"Yow, didn't know this was a party. Guess I should have worn a long dress." She chaffed, receiving soft snickers from both of my parents. My dad, however, gave a hollow snicker, which easily proved he was disgusted by her.

_Ugh_. I rubbed my forehead.

"And _Troy_, you look totally uncomfortable." Her eyes fell to mine, the side of her lip curving to the side, inquisitively. I forgot how to breathe.

"You know, why don't you show Troy around, Gabriella? Give him a tour of our house or something? Dinner won't be ready for another fifteen minutes." Gabriella's mother suggested, looking down to her daughter with hard eyes, and clenched teeth. They looked like they were ready to murder her, seriously.

"_Tour_? Please," Gabriella blew a raspberry, "I highly doubt Troy wants to see this hunk of junk." I noticed my parents furrowing their eyebrows from beside me.

"Gabriella, now." Her father spoke up, abrasive and suddenly agitated. I watch her roll her eyes, then she looked to me, as if wanting to apologize. She grabbed me by the arm, pulling me away from the two families.

* * *

"Gabriella, why are we going outside? Your mom said. . ."

"Shut up, Troy." She cut me off, leading me towards her backyard. I furrowed my eyebrows, kind of confused, yet following after her. "You really want a lame-ass tour of my house, Troy?" An erratic, amused grin appeared on her lips as she fell down to the grass, right beside her garage.

"Well . . . no." I admitted, scratching my head. I didn't bother taking a seat next to her.

"Hmm. Your parents are such hard-asses. Like, you all looked like you had something shoved up your ass. It was disgusting." She began to dig through her purse, which she was carrying the entire time. I didn't bother responding, I knew it was the truth.

I watched as she pulled out a cigarette, lighting it up conveniently with a lighter she had in her purse. She inhaled, gracefully, and then exhaled, the smoke wheezing out of her mouth, raunchily. I looked away, repulsed by it, "You're so damn quiet. You're like, the definition of a mouse, except even mice do that annoying squeaky thing." She observed, gently tapping her cigarette on the ground.

"You and Sharpay are friends now?" It's funny how squeaky mice seemed to remind me of Sharpay.

"Yeah, I guess," Her chocolate brown eyes met mine, impassively. "I thought she was like slicing you with those nails, but I guess that's just what it seems like. She really just has long nails. The girl's pretty damn cool once you get passed the bull shit."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't stand Sharpay.

"Plus, I made a deal with her that I wouldn't sleep with her bro - though he wants me _so_ bad. And he's like a little piece of glass—so fragile and clean." She looked diverted by this, a smile appearing on her face. I couldn't help rolling my eyes, "Seriously, you fucking wildcats, you're like . . . so virginal. What's with that?" She sighed, inhaling more smoke. "Why are you so scared of me?"

"I'm not."

"Bull shit. You're like, miles away from me. Do these things scare you?" She snickered, holding up the cigarette.

"I don't want lung cancer." I muttered, dryly, "Or to be assassinated by my own father, either." That was the truth.

"Oh, boohoo." She mocked me, chuckling.

"You know, that's not a really good idea either, considering the fact that your parents and my parents could just walk out and--"

"Dude, chill out - seriously, like, _relax_." She looked to me with playful eyes, "It's cute how goody-goody you are, you and your perfect shoes." She pointed to my checkered tennis shoes, which obviously weren't as formal as my suit. I owned about twenty pairs of vans and I didn't have any dress shoes.

I couldn't help but chuckle a little, "Hey, I like them." I defended, averting my eyes from hers.

"They're cute, I won't lie. But they don't match with your suit. You're kind of off-beat a tad. I'm surprised." She giggled, "It's like a flaw almost. What will you do?"

I didn't say anything, just folded my arms, looking down to my feet.

She sighed, then took out another cigarette, looking towards me, grinning, "Say, Troy, do you want a cig?"

"_Ha_. I'll pass." I rubbed the back of my neck, uncomfortably.

"Aw, have you ever even tried one?" She asked, pouting.

"No."

"Well, there's gotta be a first for everything. I mean, think of this like your first kiss. You just _have_ to go for it. So, take the chance, step up." She winked at me, holding out the cigarette.

"You're insane."

"_Eccentric_." She corrected. "Come on - just once. One cig isn't going to give you cancer."

"As delightful as it sounds, I seriously will pass."

"Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" She looked almost pleased about this.

"Gabriella, I really shouldn't."

"You don't want to break out of your perfect habits . . . just for a second?" She persisted.

"No." I bit my bottom lip.

She snorted, obviously aggravated with me, then stood up, walking towards me. I moved away, unsure of what she was intending on doing.

"Dude, why the hell are you running away from me?" She chuckled.

I stopped, folding my arms in agitation, "Fine." I sighed, looking to her, exasperated. She only grinned, appeased by my agreement.

She moved so close to me, only leaving centimeters between us. I could smell the aroma of the cigarette. And her, well, she smelled like _Pink Sugar_ . . . it was intoxicating. I had to stop myself from coughing. But she continued smirking, as if she had something ridiculously evil planned. I had to force myself not to run away.

Then she just stood there, we were practically nose to nose. "Okay, open your mouth."

"What?" I croaked, befuddled.

"Oh my _god_ - Troy, just fucking do it." She snarled, giving me serious eyes.

"You know my dad will kill me if he finds me doing anything--" I was interrupted by her inhaling smoke from her cigarette, then blowing it into my mouth. Upon reaction, I didn't inhale all the smoke, only a bit, which made me cough.

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a loser. Come on. You have to at least inhale."

"Gabriella, this is insane. I'm going back in." She stopped me before I could go, blocking my way. "What about the smell of smoke? My dad, he--"

"_Gum_." She held it up, swinging it as if I was an idiot.

"Gabriella!" I heard her mom call, loudly.

Gabriella looked to me. "Ugh, this is going to be a gradual death." That was one thing we could both agree on.

* * *

"Well, he's getting a scholarship too. I mean, he's had Academic Honors classes since he was a kid." My dad ranted on, and on. I mean, it was no surprise that he was getting his boasting in now. It seemed frustrating.

The Montez's faked paying attention, while Gabriella and I just played with our food. I continued scooping up piles off corn, just to casually fling it back onto the tray. I guess I must have looked like a toddler, had you really stared at me.

"So, Gabriella, what do you intend on doing for the future?" My mom looked to Gabriella with curious, upbeat blue eyes.

I groaned, maybe a bit too loud, shriveling in my seat. Gabriella looked surprised by the question, and possibly blank on what to say. "U-uh . . . well, whatever, I guess."

"Ah, is she going to college?" My mom's eyes darted over to the Montez's, penetrating them, slowly.

They looked embarrassed. "Eh, well, we haven't really . . . eh, considered that much. Gabriella . . . doesn't get very good grades." Mr. Montez admitted, sheepishly. I noticed Gabriella glare at him from the other side of me.

"I'm sure there's something she's good at." My dad proposed, looking interested.

"Uh . . . not much." The Montez's both confessed, looking to their daughter with disappointment. "She . . . tried out for soccer once." Mr. Montez shrugged.

"I see. Well, Troy's definitely involved in basketball, as you know." My dad beamed, realizing that he had just toppled over them, completely.

Unfortunately, quiet Gabriella couldn't hold in her emotions any longer.

She stormed up, grimacing at him, her stomach hit hard on the table, in rage. "You know what? All of you guys make me fucking _ill_." My parents' jaws seemed to drop at her mention of the ‛f' word, "Seriously, you pretend that you're God damn perfect or something. You know what? Some of us just want to live instead of having objects crammed up our asses all the time. I'm really glad your son is in basketball. And I'm glad he's so perfect. But you know what? In the end, neither of you will ever know who you really are. Perfection isn't everything; you all are just fucking ignorant. And you all sit here, on your asses, criticizing me because I'm not perfect - because I'm a mistake. Well, what the hell ever. I do what I want. And I don't give a shit what you stuck up rich people think." With wide eyes, and open mouths, we watched her dart out of the dining-room, up to her room—upstairs.

The table became awkwardly silent. My family looked, well, like they had just gotten told off completely. My dad looked somewhat crestfallen and puzzled at the same time. My mother just looked disgusted. And the Montez's looked disgruntled, of course. Me, I was just in complete shock. I couldn't even really make a face.

"Wow. . . I, I am so sorry." Mrs. Montez finally breathed, defeated.

"You know, she used to be such a great kid, always smiling, than something happened, I swear she's not even our daughter anymore. It seems like we're raising Satan's daughter sometimes." Mr. Montez attempted to make a joke - that only seemed cruel and well, heartless.

I almost felt bad.

God that sounded stupid. Why did I feel so bad - because my dad was a jerk? I already knew that he was going to do this. Maybe I didn't expect it to affect Gabriella. I mean, why should she care if my life is supposedly perfect, and I am too? I'm absolutely not. My dad just wants me to be. Why did that bother her so much?

I really _did_ feel bad.

I mean, she was close to tears, saying all of those things.

Why did she care?

Wait, why did I care? Why did I care that she cared?

Ugh, now I'm thinking far too complex.

Maybe I figured she didn't get upset. I mean, the girl clearly gets angry, but I didn't think she actually felt hurt by those things. My dad does that in vain. He doesn't realize it. He's used to it.

I felt bad, for a girl who was careless to the fact that guys had feelings. And I didn't feel bad about feeling bad - weird, crazy. Yeah, I just had to be the good guy of course.

"We should go. . ." My dad looked to my mother and me almost nervously.

"N-no, you don't have to go!" Mrs. Montez objected, looking frenetic.

"You know, I . . . have to use the bathroom, excuse me." I announced, getting up from the table. I walked out of the dining-room, quietly, looking back to them, as they debated over whose fault it was—my dad's, or Gabriella's.

I looked up to the stairs. Man, why do I have to play hero, anyways? I mean, seriously, this was just going to get ugly. I sighed, surrendering, as I headed up the stairs, a bit nervous to her reaction. Would she . . . kill me?

I shuddered, finding her bedroom door to be closed. I heard something—whimpering. I was a bit surprised, and confused. I leaned my ear against the door, attempting to verify my assumptions. I heard her, she was crying.

She seemed like she wasn't that type of girl. I was, well, still surprised. I didn't want to knock on the door, because I knew she would just yell at me, maybe tell me to go away or something. If I knew one thing about a girl, I knew that they didn't like to be . . . _bothered_?

So, instead, I just walked in, timidly, trying to be more subtle. As she heard me, her eyes instantly fell to mine; as she lay on her bed Indian style tears evident on her tan cheeks. She seemed humiliated and quickly looked away, wiping her tears, and her running mascara.

"What the fuck do _you_ want?" She sounded pretty mad.

"Look, I'm sorry, I know my dad can be . . . well, a little idealistic with his picture-perfect dreams. But it's not like that."

"You guys live a lie. And then you sit there and judge me. My parents sit there and fucking judge me along with your parents. It's gross, Troy. They aren't even my parents. Parents don't do that shit. It's like they decided to just ban me from being their daughter." She wasn't crying, but it looked like she was holding back tears.

"Yeah, I know, it's stupid. My dad's just like that."

"Why the hell do you do that? Why do you sit there and pretend to be perfect?" Anger and abhorrence seemed to linger in her tone.

"I don't _pretend_. What's with you? You act like you know me so personally. I know my dad was being annoying, he does that. But seriously - now _you're_ judging me?"

"Oh my god . . . What the hell ever, Troy. As if you haven't judged me. You fucking stare at me like I'm some kind of psycho. You think, oh, there's that stupid whore. I mean, why do you look at me like that? Do you find me like, repulsive or something? I never found myself symmetrically challenged. Why do you think I am?" She was now yelling at me, tears rolling down her cheeks.

I rolled my eyes. She was a drama queen. "_No_! God - Will you just stop yelling? Your parents are gonna hear us. I don't judge you, all right? I don't think you're repulsive. Maybe it's just the fact that you hit on all my friends. And then you try and make your way into my life or something. It just freaks me out." Way too many things said there.

She was infuriated now.

"Oh, _wow_." Her nose scrunched up with anger. "That's such a lie. I don't hit on all your friends. Hell, your friends hit on me. I can't help the fact that some guys actually acknowledge my existence. Why the fuck don't you just go back to your God damn perfect life, with your perfect dad, your perfect planned out future, your perfect mom, your perfect mother fucking house, your perfect hair, your perfect basketball team, your perfect fucking reputation. And while you're there, being so God damn perfect, I hope you _become_ your father, since you obviously can't live your own life."

I gaped at her, feeling so much heat inside of me, I was about to explode. How could she pretend to know me? She didn't know anything. I felt so much detest for her, I could have just hit her. Then again, that would've been illogical.

"Oh, _yeah_, my life is so perfect," I murmured at her, unable to keep my emotions steady. It bothered me - kind of hurt me, "_so_ perfect. You know what, Gabriella? I can't help the fact that I'm stuck in a life I can't get out of, where I can't control my own actions, where I can't go and fulfill my own dreams. You know, if I could, just for one day, I would, but if I stumble and fall, just once. . ." I looked away. "Whatever." I turned around. "You wouldn't understand." I almost had to blink back tears, just the thought of how much I really didn't like my life . . . it drove me crazy.

Turning around, I felt something grab my arm. I turned around, half-way, my eyes meeting pure chestnut. They looked messy and smeared in mascara, but still, she looked decent. It seemed impossible. "Troy. . ." I could see the realization in her eyes.

"I have to go." I broke out of her grasp, bursting out of her room. My parents were downstairs, on the verge of leaving.

"Troy, are you ready to go?" My father looked to me, expectedly.

As if I was a robot, programmed to follow his directions, I nodded, "Yeah."

* * *

_END OF CHAPTER_

Intense much? Ugh. Sorry it was more serious. Gabriella's getting an insight of the real Troy, while Troy gets an insight that Gabriella really does have feelings. That was the point here. Though now, it seems like Troy's a bit angry with her. Obviously. There's always something deeper then what it seems, right? Well. I'm sitting here listening to the band, Red. They're amazing. _Hide _and _Already Over_ are amazing songs by them. I recommend them! Well. Remember to review for updates. Love, Whitney.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Hey, what's up, everyone? I'm so sorry it's been so long. I've had a lot of stuff on my mind and haven't been able to update. I've just been so busy! I'm sorry Gabriella is kind of a jerk. Haha. I love her, dearly. This chapter you'll be able to understand a bit more of why she is the way that she is. Cool. By the way, I have totally folded to the Lil Wayne side. I love him! My boyfriend's kind of like, obsessed. So, I gave it a shot. Love, Whitney.

* * *

"_Yeah, we're stubborn and melodramatic, a real class act."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

_Gabriella's Mind-_

I knew that Troy Bolton would be the type of guy to break easily. I had a feeling that once you attempt to shatter the exterior, you have nothing but the interior looking back at you. But, shit, I was never one for words.

Was it rude of me to imply that he was living a lie- that he was involved in a life that he didn't choose? Well, how could that be rude? It was the truth, and it was very easy to notice.

I _did_ feel sort of bad afterwards though. I mean, it was erratic how he looked so broken after leaving my room. It looked like he was going to cry or something. I knew he was a very sensitive, susceptible type of guy, but I wasn't thinking it would piss him off so much. He had to understand though—he called me a _whore_. Well, not technically, but he connoted that. I don't know why I got so angry about it. I mean, he was right; I was into all of his friends. Could you blame me though?

It wasn't like people haven't called me a whore before. I've heard it plenty of times. The funny part was that I heard it more out of girls' mouths then guys'. I'd guess that was because most of the guys just wanted to fuck me, so they didn't bother stating the obvious. Ugh. Yeah, I'd admit I could be a whore. But, still, when someone says shit like that… I get pissed.

"Gabriella?" Yeah, I knew that this was coming—the fucking lectures.

I growled and slammed my fist into my pillow, grimacing at the thought of getting bitched at by my ignorant parents. Yeah, all right, I fucked up, as usual. And I told off Jack Bolton. Honestly, Jack shouldn't have had his head up his ass to begin with. And Troy shouldn't be so God damn loyal to his family's heritage or whatever. I mean, seriously, he was taking their side because they have the same last name! Assholes, I tell you.

"Gabriella, please, we need to talk." This time it was my dad's voice. Oh, so now the poor little lamb decided to send in the lion to come and push me out of my shelter. Ha, yeah right.

"Leave me the hell alone." I snarled, viciously, like some kind of wildcat or something. Ugh, figures I'd compare myself to a wildcat.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that; I'm your father." My father chided.

I rolled my eyes. "So you say." I was so mean, but quite frankly, I just never cared for my parents. It was that bad.

"Gabriella Anita Montez! You open this door right now." Mama Teresa was getting pretty pissed.

"Why can't you just leave me _alone_? I'm not fucking sorry that I told Jack off. You know what; someone needs to remind people that they aren't better then anyone else. I understand you guys think I'm some sort of disturbance to this planet but I really don't care. That just goes to prove how much you two _aren't_ parents to me." I was so sick and tired of them acting like they control me, yet acting nothing like parents should.

"We could be parents to you if you listened to us for one damn second." My father belched, sounding more aggravated then I've ever heard him. "You live in my house, if you keep acting like we aren't your parents, you might as well live in the streets." He sounded serious—it almost scared me.

"Gabby, please." My mother continued pleading. "We just want to talk. We _are_ your biological parents, you know that. You just never talk to us."

"Maybe that's because I don't _want_ to. It's none of your business. If I ever told you shit, I'd end up like Troy and his fucked up family—living a lie. I'm not gonna try and live up to your expectations. Sorry, _Gina_." I felt so remorseful for saying everything so harshly. My parents didn't deserve that much. Did they? I was just angry—angry with Troy, angry with myself, angry with life.

And that's when they surrendered. Sure, it wasn't like they weren't still upset, because I could tell they were. I heard my father slam his fist onto the door a final time, before I heard him mumble something like, "Forget it." I heard them as they descended the stairs.

I sat there for a second, furious with everyone and everything. I let out a final snarl as I looked out my bedroom's window. It was dark outside, pitch dark, a complete eclipse regulating the world outside my house. My eyes glanced from the window to a bulletin board I had positioned on the wall. My mood instantly gloomed. I found myself looking at memories of my life, my life before moving to Albuquerque.

The first thing I laid my eyes on was a picture of me, a picture of me _smiling_. Yes, I was once genuinely happy, contented, and not ridiculously moody to everyone around me. I closed my eyes, reliving pain from the memory. I could visualize myself laughing hysterically, almost to tears, in a vibrant park, in New York City.

It was like I was there, literally. I could smell the scent of the city; I could feel the Nirvana that spread throughout me. My gut tightened, my heart felt as if it was being pinched. I could hear the loud voices echoing from next to me, the sound of a few dogs barking, a few cars zooming passed, the faint aroma of gasoline and nature overcoming me. And then, a new image came to my mind—_he_ was there. I could see him, he looked so flawless, as he always did, and his chestnut-colored hair was ruffled and long. It was so shaggy, as if it hadn't been cut in months, but framed his face so wonderfully. He was tickling me, a smile formed across his full lips; his gorgeous brown eyes were full of animation and happiness. I could still see the dimples in his cheeks. He was so adorable. He had a look of love in his eyes, as did I. I finally squeezed out of his grip, running away from him. He came after me, as fast as a bolt of lightning, wrapping his arms around my tiny waist, pulling me towards him. He kissed the back of my neck, giving me goose bumps—not the goose bumps of fear or terror, the goose bumps that make you want to just make love to someone, right then and there.

And then, the memory faded.

My eyes flickered open, and I felt my heart break all over again. It was gone. Why couldn't I just let it go? Surely it had already been two years. And I still thought about it every single time I looked at that photo.

I guess everybody has their inner pains, right? Well, shit, just like everyone has their first loves. As you can tell, I already had mine. And it didn't end out well.

I met the kid in eighth grade, when we were still naïve and stupid. At this point in time, I didn't know anything about boys, or feelings for that matter, so it was all something new and exciting. I took the chance when he asked me out, and we started this adventure that I thought would never end. He was the first guy that seemed sincere and actually wanted a long-term relationship. He was a relationship guy and he was used to them—that was one thing I should have taken _negatively_ instead of _positively_. I mean, it started out fantastically. He was the greatest boyfriend ever, and for four months, I felt like I was living a dream. Then, something changed. He was dying to well, do _it_. And I was willing to sacrifice my virginity, my pride for him. I loved him so much; I promised him that I'd do anything for him, even if it meant giving up my hopes and dreams. I was an innocent, church girl. I didn't want to give up my virginity until my wedding day. Wow, complete alternation, right? So, we did it, obviously. And that wasn't what I had expected it would be. I mean, of course, the first time is usually a little rough, but he made it worse then rough. In a car's backseat, you can't really do much, but when he can't see anything and he's telling you he doesn't know if he's in the right 'spot', you get kind of annoyed with him. I mean, what the hell, how can you not find it? Dumb ass.

After this, everything just went downhill. All his friends started telling me shit like that he was a compulsive liar, that he stuck things up his ass, I don't know, really weird things. Me, being a straight, ordinary girl, got really disgusted, and ended up breaking up with him right before our eight month anniversary. And the dumb-ass part about it was that I was still madly and irrevocably in love with him - stupid, stupid girl. I was going into my freshmen year, and I thought I could be independent. Ha, fuck that. After a month, he started seeing some other girl. Can you imagine that shit? After one month, after being in an eight month relationship, and even after I gave up _everything_ for the fucker he goes to some girl! And the saddest part was that this girl was like a seventh grader, and she was one of those emo, scene chicks, the one's that have like comb over's and talk LYK OMG 4rl bby. Yeah, those annoying girls.

I was crushed, and sort of mad. I, of course, started talking to him again. This wasn't a good idea. I mean, at first, it was like war, because I kept saying I didn't care, when truthfully, the only reason I was bitching was because I did care. Weirdly enough, I ended up confessing my feelings to him. He was first really confused and didn't know how to respond, but then he did, and said he loved me too. This was the worst part. We went back out and everything was fine and dandy. The emo fucker left us alone. Then one dumb-ass night we went to get drunk together and that girl was there. My boyfriend just completely froze up and began to _ignore_ me. He even talked to her! Actually, it was more like _flirting_! After the party, he told me he doesn't love me anymore, and seeing her again confirmed it.

Can you imagine that shit? I was back with him; my feelings recovered, while he continued saying 'I love you', and then he seen her, and just dropped me!

Now, they were together, for two years, just like us, and he was telling _her_ these things. Ugh. It just stabbed me in the heart to even think about these types of things. Afterwards, I just went a bit lunatic and started sleeping with all of his friends. Easily, it became a routine, and here I am, sitting on my bed, almost in tears, thinking back.

I _hated_ my life, or even more, myself. I mean, I couldn't do anything right, and my parents confirmed that every single time they talked to someone. They always had to bash me somehow; they had to throw in my face that I was a mistake to this earth. I didn't ask for God to put me in someone's stomach. Hell, fuck that, I don't belong here. I should be up in Mars or something; I could be a piece of grain or something.

I felt hot tears of agony come pouring down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away, not wanting to feel small and vulnerable. I wasn't one to let my emotions get the best of me. Hell, I hated the fact that Troy seen some of my emotions tonight. He had seen me cry! Ugh. Surely he'd throw that in my face in the near future.

Not only did I dislike myself, but I had nothing worth living for. I mean, I didn't strive to succeed in the future, or have some weird-ass goals planned out. I had nothing to give me motivation to wake up and take life day by day. Sure, it'd be nice to have some motivation, but since I lost him, I haven't had anything—just a bunch of tattooed, careless guys who were using me for the same exact reason I was using them. You ever look at those people around you that just go around and do things heedlessly with people they don't even like? Well, don't sit there and judge them because you know, at one time, they most-likely _did_ care, they just got fucked over so bad that they don't know how to anymore. Seriously, when your heart gets ripped out of your chest and then stepped on, you become slightly afraid of that happening again. It's the worst feeling in the world, and it's worse then anyone can even explain. You just feel like you're dying inside, like your heart is literally hurting, like someone gave you surgery on it and its recovering. But it never recovers; it only throbs, every living second.

And then, a few years later, you feel it, just by thinking about it. It doesn't go away.

I felt drowsy by thinking too much, by caring too much about the past. I instantly fell to my pillow and drifted into a slumber. Sleep was the only thing that stopped me from thinking. And obviously, messing with a bunch of guys at once was the only thing that stopped it from hurting.

* * *

I woke up the next day to the sound of rainfall. Why the hell was it always raining in a desert? I swear I brought bad luck to New Mexico or something.

I hopped into the shower and let my hair fall down to my back, lazily. I was never pleased with the way my hair looked all wavy, but I didn't care enough to do anything else with it. I applied my makeup and then threw on a knee-length dress with a buttoned-up black long-sleeved sweater that went over it, buttoning halfway up.

I headed downstairs and plopped down at the dining room table, consuming the pancakes that were placed neatly in front of me. My parents were nowhere to be found, so I figured that they already headed to work. What else was new?

I emptied the plate and then grabbed the keys off the kitchen cabinet. My parents would carpool each other to work in the mornings, leaving me with my mom's vehicle—a casual, yet sporty, cerulean-colored Honda Civic. It was a year 2005 and it was in extremely good condition. I only liked it because I could jam out like a mother fucker in that car. Seriously, the bass was _tight_. I'd being jamming out to Weezy F and Kanye West all the way to school.

_K ok ok ok, you will never stop me now  
You'll never stop me now  
Ok ok ok, you will never stop me now  
You need to drop it now (drop it drop it)_

_Cuz I don't want no Robocop  
You moving like a Robocop (yea)  
When did you become a Robocop  
No I don't need no Robocop._

I grinned, singing along, all the way to East High. I pulled up, looking fresh in the car, and slung that stupid huge bag over my arm. I really didn't like school at all, but what the hell?

First hour was dull, as usual. Jason officially annoyed the living shit out of me. I mean, he would be a decent guy if he didn't say the dumbest things all the time. And plus, he was always hitting on me. He should have gotten the hint and just pissed off in the beginning. He just kept bugging me.

By second hour, I found myself strolling towards Chad Danforth's locker, pretty psyched. I hadn't seen his cute face in awhile. Ha, geez.

"Chadskee, what's up darling?" I asked, naughtily, approaching his locker.

He turned around, looking a bit surprised, and flustered, "Gabriella! Uh, hi," He stammered, looking a bit nervous now, "what's up?"

"Not much. I'm tired." I complained, stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, this school business sucks." He agreed, chuckling. He faced me, "Want me to help you with all of those books?" He suggested, caringly.

I couldn't help but smile at his gesture. "That would be so sweet of you!" Easily, I found him carrying about one half of the books I usually carry. Hmm, life was great when guys liked you enough to cater for you.

"My homies!" I didn't have to even turn around to figure out that Zeke was coming up from behind us, those stainless white teeth fixed in a huge grin. He slipped his arm around Chad and I, playfully, "What's the 411 today, bitches?"

"Don't you _ever_ call me a bitch." I muttered, half-joking.

"Oh, no, no, you're a beautiful bitch, if anything." Zeke acted like this made everything much better.

"Zelda, seriously, can't you say _anything_ right?" I asked, frustrated.

Zeke looked slightly hurt. "I'm sorry babe, I mean, you're simply beautiful, no bitches involved." I could only roll my eyes.

"Ha, Zeke, that's enough." Chad advised, giving Zeke a stern look. His chocolate-brown eyes flickered towards me as Zeke released his grip on us, "What are you doing tonight, Gabriella?" The softness in his eyes made me grin.

"So far, nothing," I responded, biting my bottom lip, spicily, "do you have any suggestions?" I used an infamous wink of mine to turn him on.

"Well, uh, um, sort of. . ." He jumbled his words around. "I was, eh, wondering if you would, maybe want to . . . study together?" He suggested, so innocently.

I could have gotten lost in his adorable chestnut-colored eyes, hadn't it been for the figure that was walking towards us, uncomfortably. It was none other then Troy Bolton, looking damn sexy in a pair of khaki pants and a striped white and navy polo. His hair looked impeccable, as usual. He didn't seem to notice me until he was half-way towards us. And then, his ocean-blue eyes jolted to my own.

"Gabriella?" Chad's question seemed to evaporate within the air.

Troy noticed me, and his expression changed, dramatically. He seemed to linger at the spot he was, and then, he turned around, as if he changed his mind, and just walked away. I watched him, confused. Was he avoiding me?

"What the _fuck_ is with Bolton?" I inquired, maybe a bit too honestly.

"Bolton? Woman, who cares about Bolton? You've got _me_." Zeke purred, attempting to swap another arm around my neck. As a reflex, I pushed his arm away, maybe a bit too harshly.

"Uh, Troy's always weird like that." Chad looked uneasy, scratching the back of his head. "Did you even hear me, Gabriella?" He looked a bit hurt, this time.

"Hear you? Did you say something?" I asked, ignorantly, folding my arms and looking away from him.

He looked annoyed, and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a rather vivacious Sharpay Evans, who came up from behind us, "Gabby! There you are!" She shrieked, excitedly. Ugh, what does she do, drink ten cups of espresso in the morning?

"Sharpay. . ." I heard Chad grumble, tepidly.

"Good morning!" Sharpay sung animatedly. "Guess who has a date tonight?" She boasted, grinning at me, widely.

"Shar, dude, it's like seven am—"

"More like eight, girly."

"Right, whatever. What the hell? Don't you ever call me 'girly' again. That's fucking nasty." I blurted out, the irritation taking me over. I just couldn't help it. I mean, first, Troy was like avoiding his friends because of _me_, and now, Sharpay is gonna go on and on about some ugly mother fucker.

Chad, Sharpay, and Zeke looked taken back by my sudden aggravation.

"Uh, _okay_." Sharpay looked a bit indignant as she looked away, while the rest of them just looked shocked.

"Baby G, you seem a bit uptight, babe, I understand that sometimes it's that time of the month, but Zeke here can give you a hand any time of the week. Ya dig?" Zeke was seriously fucking retarded.

"Dude, Zulu, shut up. I don't like you, I never did, so will you stop trying to like rape me? It's getting really annoying." I huffed, as I shifted my hair back and walked away from them.

"Uh, Gab!" I heard Sharpay cry, confused.

"I'll see you in Physics." I muttered, not looking back once.

I don't even know why I was so mad. Well, I was never a morning person, but that was just one thing. Why did Troy ignore me? Ugh. God, why did I even care? He's just another stuck-up jackass. He thinks he's so cool because he's on the basketball team, because he's their star player, because he gets straight A's and has Academic Honors classes, because he does everything just right, because he's _perfect_.

Why did I even _worry_? Shit, he's gonna be so hardheaded. He would never think about hooking up with a mess-up like me. He had morals, not grudges like me. All I ever do is sit around and groan and moan about my life, while he just worked hard to make his better. I was lazy and uncoordinated—he was athletic and exemplary. I didn't have a pimple on his ass.

Ha, shit, like that kid would have a pimple on his ass anyways. He's far too gorgeous.

Ugh. My brain hurt from all the thinking. I never really obsessed over what some good guy thought about me, nor have I ever even obsessed over a good guy, really. Well, I haven't since middle school. Hadn't I had _enough_? He was too good for me. And I didn't even have good intentions. I didn't want to get married to him or fall deeply in love with him; I just wanted to get into his pants. What was wrong with me?

This kid doesn't want some stupid tramp trying to seduce him and his friends, if anything; he wants something real, something idealistic, and something he can hold onto. But he was so perfect, it was obvious why he never had a girlfriend—none of them could even attempt to please him.

I walked into Intermediate Writing and sat down next to Chad, who just looked at me strangely, probably wondering why I was in such a bad mood earlier. He didn't question it though; he just began writing in his journal.

I was just sitting there, tapping my pencil onto the desk, bored. I never did work, and I never will. I'm just as lethargic as it gets, and frankly, I just don't give a damn. I couldn't just change routine now.

My eyes trailed towards the front of the room. Ugh, there he was, strolling in like he was a king, or a Greek god or something. I think all the girls in the class looked his way as he walked in, but he didn't look at any of them. It was almost as if he didn't have to look, because he just didn't care.

I guess we are similar in that way.

But God, he was so hot.

I hated it.

And then he noticed Chad and I. He seemed to freeze up, as he did earlier this morning. I became a little tense. He better not just avoid me again. I mean, I didn't say that much shit, did I? I didn't think I was that cruel. . .

Apparently I was though.

He ignored the seat in between us and headed towards the corner of the room, greeting some guys I've never seen before, ever. He grinned at them and took a seat next to them, chatting with them warmheartedly.

He was such a chicken shit.

Chad noticed this and looked a bit confused. He looked in Troy's direction and caught Troy's eyes, raising an eyebrow at him. Troy didn't make a response; just turned back around to the guys he was sitting with.

Ugh, maybe flirting with Chad wasn't such a good idea after all.

* * *

_END OF CHAPTER_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Whitney here! Mm, yeah. So how's everyone's Christmas break going? Mine's been pretty swell. I've been just hanging with friends and watching Gossip Girl. Aha. I'm obsessed now. Plus, I'm going to marry Chace Crawford someday. Didn't you know? After I marry Zac Efron of course. : P All right I'm done being stupid. Back to _the Tramp Next Door_. Remember to leave inspiring reviews! Love, Whitney.

* * *

"_Drop everything, start it all over. Remember more then you'd like to forget."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

_Troy's Mind-_

"She's such a little hottie though, Troy. How can you not notice that?" Chad had approached me early that morning, ranting on and on about Gabriella Montez.

Honestly, I already heard enough about her from Zeke.

I was so upset with her about everything she said the night before; I couldn't bring myself to even listen to Chad. I just tuned him out as I yanked my books out of my locker and walked with him to first hour.

"I just don't know how to ask her though, man. Do you have any suggestions?" He asked, interrupting my thoughts by stopping, and just looking at me, inquisitively.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, "Man, I don't know. Just ask her, I guess." I guess he could notice the soreness in my tone.

"Dude, what's with you man?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow. "Usually you're more supportive."

"Just . . . you know, the usual - my dad and basketball." I was so sick and tired of using that as my excuse for everything. I mean, neither of them even mattered that much anymore.

Chad scoffed, "Oh come on, Bolton. I heard a rumor, something about Gabriella telling off your dad last night. Is that what's eating you, man?" He seemed only amused by this. "Because you and I both know that most people are scared out of their pants of your dad, including you. That's pretty ballsy of her to face up to him like that. I think that just makes her even more awesome." Now he was ranting again.

"Yeah, whatever." I murmured, secretly hoping the conversation would end.

At the moment, I just disliked the girl, a lot. I mean, she basically was dwelling into my personal life, acting like she knew everything about me last night. She didn't even know me, at all. She had no right to say anything that she said. But at the same time, the fact that everything she said was true . . . that killed me even more. And I wasn't one to weaken at the sake of someone's words.

It's stupid, yeah. I wasn't easy to break, but you start throwing reality at me, I start realizing how hopeless I really am, and how much I really do hate my life. And how my whole future is laid out for me, and I _can't_ be who I want to be. But at the same time, it's like, who do I even want to be?

Obviously _not_ Jack Bolton's perfect son.

Chad headed off for his Math class, waving at me as we departed. He never really got aggravated with me. Actually, take that back, the guy never really got aggravated with anyone. He was so easygoing, so optimistic all the time. You'd have to go out of your way to annoy the guy. He was just friendly, down to earth, and kind-hearted. He didn't deserve Gabriella to slut her way into his life and break his heart.

Alright, that was rather harsh. But seriously, what made her go to the extremes of trifling with Chad? He was a good guy, he had a good heart. He didn't need to have some ignorant girl ruin his life.

"Yo, T, wait up, dawg." I inwardly dreaded hearing Zeke's obnoxious cat-calling from behind me. He approached me, all of his books in hand, eager to walk to first hour. I really didn't need to listen to his rambling about Gabriella either.

"Look, Zeke. . . today's really not the day, alright?" I warned him, beginning to walk with him.

"Shit, it's never your day, man. What's up your ass? Cockroaches?" He joked, elbowing me.

"Dude, that's not even funny anymore. It never was."

"Whatever man, it used to make you laugh, before you became Ebenezer Scrooge. Seriously, what gives, bro?"

I rolled my eyes, "Nice comparison, man. I'm just not into the drama today, alright? I don't care."

"No, that's because you're _involved_. Shit, I heard Baby G bitched out your daddy. That's pretty sweet. 'Bout time someone yanked that wrench outta his tight ass." I couldn't help but cringe at the mention of Gabriella—I just couldn't stand hearing about her.

"Man, just stop. I don't even wanna talk about that." I groaned.

"Dawg, tell me everything. I wanna hear what she did to break your heart, man. 'Because that woman is fucking fire, and she'll turn you into ashes like a plastic surgeon did to Michael Jackson's black nose."

"You're messed up. And I don't wanna talk about her." I was getting more aggravated with him.

"What, you don't like my little color-confused singer?" He chuckled. "Shit, dawg, don't lie, you especially like the song _Beat it_ 'cause in your spare time—"

"Zeke, I think I know where you're getting, and can we just please not talk about anything that involves girls, sex, or masturbation for like… a day?" I stopped walking and looked at him, dead-serious.

He stopped too, folding his arms. "Well, hot damn, Troy, what's the deal? Seriously, you gotta at least tell me man, I'm like your brother, from another mother. Couldn't be from the same mother, 'cause yo' mamma is so damn fiiiine."

"Dude, that's disgusting." I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"Ugh, okay, Mr. Aiken, shit. You're more like Ellen DeGeneres actually with that hair."

"Dude, do you have a problem with gay people? Seriously, Ellen's funny. And you talk about Clay so much; I'm starting to think you're having a bromance." I gave him a quaint frown.

"Yeah, 'because I just love the way his eye sorta twitches when he sings." Zeke responded, sarcastically.

My eyes widened, "Dude you just admitted that you watch him sing."

"Aw hell no, I just liked to watch Paula get up there and judge everyone, looking fly as hell."

"Paula is pretty good-looking." I confessed.

"Dude, yeah, I would fuck her so nice she wouldn't know what the fuck hit her. She would think that she went to Pluto and back, dawg."

I rolled my eyes. "Man, what is up with you and sex?"

"Maybe if you actually got some from Gabriella Montez you'd know why I'm so fucking into it, dawg. You need to get your head in the game, man. It's time." Zeke told me.

"You sound like my dad. And I have more important things to do besides mess with that lying, ignorant, deceiving whore..." I breathed, angrily, letting my frustration get the best of me.

"Whoa." Zeke looked shocked to my sudden burst of resentment. But his eyes were more captivated on something from behind me.

I ignored his baroque expression, "No, but dude, seriously, don't talk about her anymore. She's just going to hurt you, and Chad, Ryan, whoever else . . . she tried to talk to me man, and I don't even like her. She's not even attractive if you really look at her. Just forget about her, she's selfish and a spoiled brat—her parents can't even stand her, how can you expect someone else to?" I looked away. "I sure can't."

Zeke was trying to desperately cut me off, "Dude, Troy . . . man . . . look behind you." He looked so petrified and freaked out. I was almost scared to turn around.

I slowly turned around, suddenly face-to-face with a really pissed off Gabriella Montez. Not only did she look pissed off, her eyes were upheld with tears. I then realized that she was right behind me the entire time I said everything about her. Penitence washed over me like crazy as she just stared at me, looking more hurt and confused then infuriated. "Gabriella. . . I-"I began, about to apologize out of mere guilt.

"Thanks, Troy. And you got pissed at me judging you . . . well; at least what I said was the truth." She scoffed, turning back around, beginning to walk away.

Zeke watched her then his eyes flickered back to me, "Well . . . fuck, that's my cue man. I'm gonna go console her. That was rough, but shit, it happens. I hope you figure things out bro."

It was strange that he seemed to vanish faster then I could even blink, running after her like she meant the world to him—proposing to console her, somehow. I watched him go after her, dramatically, like he was in some movie scene or something. Why was he so obsessed with her, so infatuated by the girl? I felt stupid.

I just shoved a hand in my pocket and headed towards my first hour, the remorse following me with every step. I was extremely upset with her, but everything I said was just harsh. I literally labeled her; I even said she was hideous, practically. I mean, she wasn't. . . Why did it even matter though? Yeah, she overheard me. Why did it matter? I wasn't even sure. I didn't like her, nor did I care about her feelings. She didn't even have feelings. She was busy toying with my friend's. So why did it matter? It didn't. I needed to just stop regretting it, to stop having a heart, to stop worrying. . .

But when I got into Art class and she wasn't there, I didn't understand it.

"Dude, why the hell isn't Baby G here man?" Zeke looked to me for answers, as if I was the one who knew everything.

I knew that I said a few things, but she wouldn't have taken them that much to heart. I wasn't that important.

"I don't know, man? Maybe she had a doctor appointment?" I suggested, heedlessly, as I began to work on my art project which was due Friday.

Zeke just gaped at me, incredulously, like I was an idiot. "That's . . . a load of shenanigans, and you know that, man. She was crying after you yelled at her."

I furrowed my eyebrows. Yeah, right. "She wasn't, man. She was mad, that's all. She wouldn't show up to class because of me. She has other guys to turn to, right?" I snorted.

"Like who? The guy who does yoga? Shit, dawg, you know you beat out fucking Danforth and that little pussy bitch, Ryan. You're Troy Bolton, remember? Girls are fucking obsessed with you. You act like she wouldn't like you. That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard."

I don't know why he was getting so dramatic, but I cringed. "No, it's not. Look, why don't you go have sex with someone? I'm not into talking about this - because it doesn't matter." I snarled at him.

That shut him up; he went back to working on his project.

However, it wasn't long before Sharpay Evans came storming into class, looking fierce, but also really cross. I looked up casually, while I could hear Zeke wheezing from behind me, probably picturing her naked or something. I winced as she approached our table, glaring. "Troy Bolton." She always sounded so stern when she said my name, so this wasn't anything new.

"Good morning to you too, Sharpay." I muttered.

"So, what is your problem, exactly? The last time I talked to Gabriella, she mentioned she overheard you talking or something. She looked really mad, Troy. And now she's not in class. That's just pure irony, you know?" She was looking at me, as if searching for answers. Her brown eyes were so intense—they were rigid, like rocks.

"Are you kidding me? I said a few things, yeah, but you know what? Gabriella is into yoga boy and Chad, and she doesn't care about anyone except for herself. Even you know that she doesn't care, so why are you even accusing me? I was just saying like it is." I sounded so heartless, so cold and emotionless, it was abnormal.

"Look, I'm not even that good of friends with her enough to slap you or something, but that's kind of low, Troy. I mean she hasn't done anything with Chad or Ryan. Girls have the right to be free too. We don't call you arrogant or a pretty boy, so you shouldn't say things like that to Gabriella." I was surprised at how defensive Sharpay was.

"Sharpay." My tone softened, as did my eyes. "I didn't realize she was there . . . seriously. I had no idea."

Her expression didn't weaken. She still looked angry. "Yeah, well tell her that, not me. She's new, she doesn't deserve problems." Her hair flickered to her back, attractively, as she walked away from our table, bombastically.

My eyes wandered back to Zeke, who was practically drooling. "Wow." He gasped. "I knew she was a bitch, but hot damn, she is a _huge_ bitch." He grinned, wider.

"Dude you are sick." I muttered. I looked down for a second, and then looked back up.

My eyes caught onto someone who was walking into the Art room, her hair messy and long, her eyes dark and inscrutable. Zeke's eyes caught onto her, also.

She didn't meet our eyes, as she walked passed our table, ignoring both our existences. I felt horrible at that second, like a knife just got jabbed into my heart. I wasn't used to those feelings, either. I just felt nauseous, like I could have thrown up.

Curiously, my eyes moved over to their table. Gabriella's head was down low, and Sharpay was muttering things to her. God, I felt so bad. And I had no idea why.

* * *

I blanked. Studying was never a way of distracting a guy. I just couldn't think any more. My mind was done. It was overdone, too much. I had a migraine. I closed my eyes for a second, looking out the window, frustrated, stressed out. I was so sick and tired of trying so hard to impress everyone, to impress my family, to live up to their expectations.

I let out a loud sigh as I noticed the Montez's lights were all on, vibrantly. I seen shadows pass their blinds, well one. I could tell it was Gabriella by the length of her curly, extraordinarily beautiful hair. I still felt bad about today. She didn't deserve that, did she? I mean, even if she was a whore, there was a reason to it . . . wasn't there? Maybe there was more to her, maybe I was being too judgmental. I watched her figure. She stripped off a shirt and put on another. I could see the outline of her figure, her perfect, symmetrical hips, and her inviting legs. God I needed to apologize.

I grabbed my basketball from the side of my bedroom, and headed outside, careless to how dark it was outside. I heard my mom call after me as I sprinted out the backdoor, heading towards the hoop. I just needed to let off some steam that was all. I needed to stop thinking.

My aim always seemed erroneous. I always missed. I had no idea why I couldn't aim well. I groaned to no one in particular and just threw the ball into the garage. I took a seat on the porch steps, just watching the sky. It looked breathtaking—it was filled with so many stars, in a countless number. My eyes darted from the sky back to the Montez's house. Gabriella. She was looking out the window; her eyes were facing the sky too. I rubbed my temple, frustrated to my sudden worry about her.

"What are you doing out here, so late?" My dad's voice interrupted my thoughts, as he appeared from the back door, his eyes on me, confused.

He grabbed the basketball I threw into the garage, and went up for a shoot, making a perfect aim. I watched, enviously.

"Just . . . thinking." I confessed, not sure how to respond.

"You didn't even say hello to me or your mother today when you came home." He noted, a bit implicated for once, as he made another hoop.

"Yeah. . . I've just been studying a lot, I guess."

"I wanted to talk with you about the other night with the Montez's." He began, his eyes now falling to me, as he put down the ball. He took a seat next to me.

I sighed, looking up to the sky, "Yeah, I know, Dad, she's crazy."

"Troy, she's right." The weirdest thing in the world had just happened—my own father was now disregarding himself. He never admitted he was wrong before. And here he was, claiming that he was in the wrong and Gabriella was right. What was going on with my world?

"Wait, what?" I asked, thinking I heard wrong, as I fixated my eyes on my usual stubborn father.

"There are a few things she said that were, well, definitely inappropriate, but, the gist of it is… Troy, this is your life." He sounded solemn. His eyes met mine. "We aren't trying to mold you into something spectacular. We're just trying to protect you. We're making sure that you won't wake up in twenty years and find yourself. . . well, sitting in a bar, without any money in your pockets. We want you to be happy."

"Dad, you freak out if I get a C on a paper that I always retake anyways. You don't have to remind me. I know what I want my future to be like." I replied. "I feel like I'm on the edge all the time, trying to be perfect for you and Mom. That's kind of hard."

"It is . . . but son, it's what my father always did." He looked away, distractedly. "It worked. I mean, look at us, we live in a house, we have food to eat, we actually have a lot more then most people. All of that extra studying, all of that lecturing . . . it was worth it, because, I like where I am now. I have a wife, a kid, and a house . . . a great job." He chuckled.

It was funny because I actually understood him, for once.

"Yeah I get that. . ."

"But don't ever feel like we're trying to make you someone you're not. You are Troy Bolton; you're not just some other guy. You're you."

"Dad, that's what it is!" I frowned at him, exasperated. "What if I just want to be the other guy? What if I don't want people to depend on me so much? I mean, I wanna feel normal, I don't wanna feel like everybody is expecting me to be the greatest. I'm not that."

"But think of it this way, Troy. You're going to always have people there for you, you'll always have someone to turn to, and you'll never be lonely. When Gabriella goes to bed at night, the only person she can turn to is herself, because she's pushed everybody else out of her life already, including her parents." He patted my shoulder, "It's late, you should come in soon . . . but just remember, Troy, it's not always greener on the other side. You make us proud by just having our name. Goodnight son."

I watched him walk into the house.

He was right about everything, but at the same time, it seemed to bother me, what he said about Gabriella. She deserved it, right? She deserved what I said too, didn't she? I had no idea why I was obsessing over it - because I made her cry? I couldn't have . . . could I of? God, I was too nice of a guy to make a girl cry.

So, I decided I would talk to her tomorrow, and make everything alright, despite how many guys she was flirting with or how many of my friends she was messing with.

But God, I never thought that this would lead to everything I didn't want.

* * *

_END OF CHAPTER_

Sorry it's shorter then most. But it's just the good guy in Troy. He feels bad now. And yes he did make her cry. Why? Because she doesn't like people calling her a whore. She has feelings, you know. Well, it's way too early for me to continue writing. SO leave me a few reviews and I'll give you an extra long chapter next chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Whitney here! Ah, I just love this website. And the fact that people actually acknowledge my Troyella stories. It just makes me feel happy. I know that sounds cheesy. I'm just into writing x 100 – always have been. Well, I last left you with Troy feeling guilty for saying those things about Gabriella. Will he apologize? Hm, let's see, why don't we? Remember to review! Love, Whitney.

* * *

"_I didn't want it to mean that much to me."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

_Gabriella's Mind._

There were many things in my life that I could not stand. One, my parents, being the annoying-ass optimists that they were, scene girls (I really just don't understand the comb over's and the fucking eyeliner smearing their eyes), MySpace (because God forbid those fuckers that blog like maniacs), preppy bitches (get over yourselves), Barney (seriously who the hell makes up songs like 'I love you, you love me'?), girls who can't talk without sounding _retarded_ (you know the one's that shake their hair around and mumble then break-out laughing like hyenas?), pink pants (unless they belong to Ryan Evans), multi-color hairstyles that look like Bozo the mother fucking clown, and arrogant assholes who enjoy talking shit about me when I'm standing _right_ behind them.

I'm good-natured, I'll tell you.

But Troy Bolton seriously pissed me off.

I mean, if he seriously thought I was such a slut, he could have just told me, instead of ranting on about it to Zeke. That was extremely low for Mr. Perfect himself. Honestly, I expected him to have a bit more respect for people then to badmouth them like that. And when he said it, it just tore me up inside. It reminded me of how pathetic I really was. But it also made me upset that he would say those things without even knowing how pathetic I _really_ am. He didn't know the reason why I fucked with everybody, why I was such a screw-up. He acted like he knew, when it was much worse then he even thought. He was judging me, had already. In his mind, I was just some loathsome tramp who couldn't get her mind straight. I couldn't disagree with everything he said – maybe that was why it hurt so much.

I tried to push it aside as I headed for my next hour. He was just some stupid guy that thought he was better then everybody else because his dad was the basketball coach and because he was attractive. He said I was ugly, that I was a whore, and that I didn't deserve anyone to like me. I mean, it was harsh, harsher then I anticipated he could be. And I didn't want it to kill me the way that it did. But thoughts of my past, and the way I react to everything – it seemed to haunt me as I continued with my day. I couldn't just forget. I was angry. I was even more hurt then angry. And I didn't know why. I knew he was scared of me, but I never thought he _detested_ me. I had thoughts replaying in my mind, thoughts of having sweet, exasperating sex with him. And truth be told, because of his abroad attitude towards me, I was even more intrigued by him - only physically, of course.

I stood at my locker, just glaring at it, losing myself in thoughts. It was the next day of school and I was dreading every moment. I hated school, to a maximum. I knew I wouldn't make it to college. There was really no point in me even being here. I already jacked up my future.

"Morning!" I turned to face a grinning Ryan Evans, a lump of books in his hands as he handed me our Physics assignment from the other day.

That's my boy. "Thanks, cutie." I took the paper from him, shoving it into my book bag.

"You need some help with any of those books?" He asked, with kind hazel eyes.

"I'm alright, but thanks for being such a gent." I told him, winking at him as I lazily picked up my five hundred pound bag. Damn.

He just nodded, and then walked away - still looking as spirited as ever in those pink pants. I smirked as I watched him, licking my lips.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I found myself in big, chocolate-brown eyes, and the sight of a huge curly afro. Figures Chad Danforth wasn't over me just yet. He looked eager to make conversation as he smiled at me, a look of admiration in his eyes.

God, obsessive much?

I ignored it though, taking advantage of his cuteness as I piled my books into his arms, ignoring the fact that I totally rejected Ryan's offer. Meh, does it even matter? Ryan gave me his fucking homework – that was good enough.

I watched as Chadskee struggled with my books, finding a nice way to offer me a smile, even though he was being smothered by them covering his face. I found it amusing as I folded my arms and grinned at him, licking my top lips seductively.

"Gabriella!" Sharpay's loud, obnoxious voice disturbed the picture in front of me. I'm surprised Chad didn't stumble and fall, all those books scattering all over the floor. He wasn't so coordinated I noticed as he wobbled like he was dizzy or something. His lips formed into a frown as Sharpay approached us.

Sharpay gave him a slight glare, "Where have you been? I need to talk to you, ASAP." I kept my eyes on her, encouraging her to continue. Her eyes wandered to Chad, scanning him with a look of disgust. "Girls _only_."

Chad, with a handful of books that seemed to go up to his nose, became wide-eyed as he suddenly looked petrified of Sharpay, and made a run for second hour. "I'll meet you there, Gabriella." He told me, an unreadable expression on his face.

I watched him walk away with difficulty, and then turned back to Sharpay, my mouth ajar, "Dude, what the fuck was that, Barbie?"

"I'm _not_ Barbie. Stop calling me that." She flung a golden-blonde curl to her back, "What happened yesterday?"

"What happened with what?" I asked, clueless on what she is referring to.

"Troy. You were like, crying over him." She reminded me, folding her arms, suspiciously. "I yelled at him – told him that it was low."

"You _what_? What the hell, Shar? Haven't you ever heard of keeping secrets? Shit, now he probably thinks I like him." I groaned, banging my head against the locker – completely aware that it might affect my brain in the near future.

"He thinks you hate him, actually. You should, he is so lame. And those checkered shoes he wears, they are so last February." Sharpay rolled her eyes.

I turned around and stared at her, a look of prostration entering my face. "Dude, are you serious? Last week you wanted to like make love to him or something. You're so fucking bipolar. And I like his lame-ass checkered shoes. Shit, that's probably the only thing cool about that douche bag."

"Yeah, okay, but seriously, Gabriella. Do you like him?" She sounded so serious – I wanted to hit her.

"Are you mentally retarded or are you just deaf? Don't you recall me telling you that I just wanted to do him, really, really bad? I didn't ask for an engagement ring, but apparently guys in this school want to give me one. It's gross."

"Troy doesn't like you."

I didn't know what she was trying to do. If this was her way of consoling me, than she was an idiot. "I know he doesn't like me, jackass."

"Gosh, Gabriella, you were crying."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I wasn't crying over _him_ specifically, that it may have something to do with something else?" I suggested.

"Not really." Sharpay looked at me, skeptically. "I'm just saying whether you like to admit it or not, you do care, it's obvious. Maybe it's just attraction, but it's something."

"You are brainless." I murmured as my eyes drifted off to the individuals in the hallway. My eyes slightly fell as I noticed someone walking towards us – someone with tawny-colored hair and ocean-blue eyes, and those motherfucking checkered shoes. All the anger came back to me. "You're fucking me."

"That's gross, Gabriella, I can't even do that. I don't have the parts to do that."

"Shar, turn around." I told her, ignoring her dumb-ass comment.

His eyes found us, just glaring at him from a distance, but he didn't stop, he kept walking, walking towards us. He looked like there was something on his mind, like he actually wanted to converse. I averted my eyes, really not wanting to talk to him, ever again. He called me a whore. He doesn't even know the first thing about me.

"Troy Bolton is coming towards us."

"Really, where? I just see a flock of flies over there." I muttered, disgusted.

"Flies with checkered shoes." She commented, as I just scrunched my face up into a frown even further.

The way he waltzed up to us and set himself up just inches from me, leaning against the locker next to me, just pissed me off even more. He acted like he was king of the world, and clearly he wasn't. I looked away from him, pretending to mind myself in my locker. I'm amazed he even had the guts to approach me again after yesterday. "Gabriella, can I talk to you?' Despite how ridiculously sexy his voice sounded – and the way his body seemed to waver against the locker so beautifully – I kept my back turned.

"Did you hear something, Shar?" I inquired, rudely, ignoring the fact that his eyes were on me, begging for some kind of response.

"Not a thing." She answered, snickering. She was so damn weird sometimes.

"Dumb-ass flies. They like to shit on you, and then they expect you to talk to them again." I murmured, loud enough for him to hear. I imagined the look of annoyance in his eyes.

"Gabriella, seriously, about yesterday—"

"Ugly whores they are, pieces of shit, you can't forget that, I mean seriously, who would ever want to deal with them? They are just a disgrace to society. Even their own fathers don't think they're good enough." I turned around and looked at him, hoping to find the hurt in his eyes, the hurt that he gave me. I waited, and as the words sank in, I noticed a look of shame appearing on his face.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice slightly breaking as he looked to his shoes. I actually seen the remorse in his eyes, it freaked me out.

"Shar. . . let's get to class. I don't need any shit anymore." I blinked my eyes away from him, my stomach filling with a hollow emptiness I couldn't explain. I didn't look back at him – I just can't. He held too much pain in those eyes that I almost felt bad for ignoring him. Damn, what was my problem?

I hated wildcats. That's all I knew.

"I can't believe Troy Bolton was attempting to apologize to you." Sharpay sounded more covetous then casual as we walked towards my first hour.

"Yeah, what a fruit. After everything he said yesterday, he'll have to bow down and pray to me before I forgive his ass." I told her, emotionlessly.

"You shouldn't even talk to him then."

"Well, I don't usually hold grudges; I'm just still a bit pissed off. I mean, I've never had a guy call me unattractive before, what the hell was up with that?" I asked, unable to hide my hurt. Truthfully, that was harsh. Did he really think I was _ugly_? I frowned.

"Yeah, that was so mean. I say you stick with Chad." She suggested, though I couldn't help but notice insistency in her voice. She liked Troy still, didn't she? I could almost tell she didn't want me talking to him. That was shitty.

The day went by slowly and I found myself sitting in second hour, sitting in between Chad and some other kid I've never seen before. I think I intimidated Troy; he went half-way across the room, ignoring Chad's invitation.

But I couldn't help but notice the way he would look over, that stupid sorry look on his face. I didn't understand why he felt so fucking badly about something he said to _me_ – I was just the whore trying to break all his friends' hearts or something. He didn't give a shit about what I thought. And I didn't give a shit what he thought.

"I was thinking we could get together and study sometime." I barely heard Chad uttering from next to me. I couldn't break my eyes away from Troy's for one second. I was like captivated by those eyes, they were fucking gorgeous. "Gabriella?" I blinked, realizing I was staring as I averted my eyes from Troy to Chad.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" I asked, trying to act cool and collected.

"Study date, sometime, you know?" He kept trying – despite the fact that he knew I was just looking directly at Troy, even though we were both at war with each other. Damn, what was wrong with me? He told me I was ugly, he called me a whore; he said he didn't like me and nobody else would.

"Yeah, we definitely should." I gave Chad a voluptuous smirk, proving I actually wanted to, followed by a wink.

Chad practically melted.

My eyes somehow flickered back to Troy, even though I really didn't want them to. His eyes were locked onto mine, the same look of apology still written all over his face. I couldn't look any further; I looked back to my journal and looked up to the board.

_Recite an event that changed your life – good or bad._

Chad was already scribbling down something frenetically as I looked to the blank piece of notebook paper. I could only think up one event that altered my universe more than anything, that changed the person I am, dramatically. Maybe I lied when I said I don't play around with guys to avoid heartbreak, to avoid some kind of feeling. Maybe that was exactly why I played around with a few guys at a time. Maybe that was the gist of everything – to forget about the emotions, to back away from the closeness.

* * *

_Flashback._

I pulled down my knee-length skirt – it was tradition for me to dress up, just to look pretty in front of him. I was determined to catch his attention, all the time. I mean, he was my boyfriend, I loved him. And it wasn't that ridiculous puppy love they talked about, or just a high school fling – we both knew that it was more real than anything either of us had ever experienced.

My hair was in braids – he adored my hair in braids, he told me.

I strolled towards my locker, anxious to see him standing there, waiting for me like he always does. He was, of course, looking as graceful as he always does – his long, chestnut-colored hair seemed to shine in the sunlight, and it was so long that it curled from the sides in the most adorable way. It was messy and a bit shaggy but looked cute on him.

But as I approached him, I didn't find the glimmer in his eyes that I was looking for – the way his light brown eyes would light up at the sight of me. It seemed that it was missing. My mood instantly fell and I became confused as I greeted him. He didn't kiss me on the cheek, nor did he kiss me on the forehead. He didn't even bother kissing me on the lips. Emptiness filled my soul as I didn't say anything to him, shuffling through my locker.

"Gabriella." He said his voice less rhapsodic than usual. I turned to face him, fear evident in my eyes – I wasn't ready for whatever he was going to tell me. I knew something was wrong. I just didn't want to accept it. "We need to talk." The dreaded words that no girlfriend ever wants to hear – was heard.

I swallowed, not wanting to look him in the eyes – his eyes just dug into my heart, piercing me with their strong color. We had been going out for three months since our last break up and I noticed a definite change of feelings from him. He used to be the domineering one of the relationship – the one who cared the most, who tried the most, who worried about us the most. But after I broke up with him, it seemed he was less interested, even though he agreed to come back to me. I was more paranoid that he would go back to Jaime – the hideous girl he went to after me. That just stirred me painfully from time to time. I hoped we'd never depart again, that I'd never give him the opportunity to go and be with her.

"I'm not sure if I love you anymore." I still remember the way the words thrashed my heart, as if he grabbed a knife and yanked it in there. You can't even begin to explain heartbreak, it's much deeper and much more hurtful then anyone can ever expect. You literally feel like your heart just had surgery, as if there it's just throbbing, irregularly.

"B-but, how can you say that?" I asked, biting my lip to fight back a stream of tears that were dying to run down my eyes. I never felt so weak, so susceptible to him until this very moment. It finally was vivid to me. ". . . It's her, isn't it?"

He looked ashamed in himself as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I've liked her this whole time – it won't go away. I'm sorry, Gabriella. I may have loved you a while ago, but I'm not sure if I still do."

The tears burned my eyes; I just couldn't push them away any further as his words stung me like a mosquito would if it was biting me. I pushed my ebony-colored bangs in front of my face, to conceal my eyes. "_Her_; the 7th grader." I said, as if it was the most absurd thing he could ever do. "Compared to me?" I blinked, not meeting his eyes, too angry to do so.

"You think you're _so_ much better than her, don't you?" He suddenly huffed, sounding aggravated.

I closed my damp eyes for a second than looked back to him, taking in the resentment and infuriation that was located in those usual pensive eyes. I felt my heart shattering into one million pieces. "Yes." I whimpered, looking to the floor. "She could never love you the way I do."

"Whatever." He scoffed, now sounding upset. "This is done, Gabriella. You need to accept that she _is_ better than you – you were just second choice when she rejected me, I figured you already knew that."

I let out a muffled sob, unable to control the sadness that was overwhelming me. "H-how? What has she done to beat out three years, Jason?"

"It was barely even two. And she doesn't act like a child over everything, like you do. You're so immature, I hate you." The words penetrated me for a second, as if time had stopped and left me at exactly what he said: he _hated_ me.

I turned my back to him, the tears squeezing out of my eyes violently as he walked away, as if he had never said those horrible things to me, as if it had never happened. He had ripped my heart into pieces – he had scattered it all over the place. It seemed impossible to ever glue the pieces back together. Would every man treat me in such a disrespectful way after we spent two years together?

I stood at my locker, crying. I couldn't rejuvenate. I was so broken – so used and abused. Nothing could make me feel better. Positive thoughts were gone, and vague memories haunted me. I couldn't think of the bad memories, only the good memories, and that's what tore me apart even more. I thought of when he smiled at me, when he kissed me, when he _loved_ me. And at the same time, I secretively blamed myself for breaking up with him once, for allowing him to get close to _her_, for letting him forget so easily about me.

And that day, I promised myself I wouldn't ever let a guy get that close to me, ever again.

* * *

_End of Flashback._

After second hour, I headed to my locker, still troubled by the pesky memories that never seemed to fade away. I detested when guys said such harsh things to me. Troy only reminded me of how ignorant men can be – he only reminded me of what haunted me every single night. And at the same time, I had no idea why what he said meant anything to me, whatsoever. I didn't even know him.

Than again, I haven't been called any bad names like that since Jason, maybe that's why it panged me so much.

As I began to spin my locker combination, I felt a presence behind me. I turned around, gradually, and found myself facing two, familiar blue eyes. I groaned out loud and turned back to my locker, ignoring him completely.

"Gabriella – can't you hear me out, for like, two seconds?" He sounded desperate.

I didn't respond.

"Look, I didn't mean anything I said, alright? I was mad." He continued, the despondency only increasing in his voice.

I turned to face him, shocked at his relentless behavior. "Didn't you hear what I said earlier? That didn't offend you, at all?" I asked, baffled by his ignorance to my horrifying comment.

He looked glad I just responded in general though. "I don't care. I understand that you're upset, but I'm not that type of guy, Gabriella. Seriously, forgive me, please?" Why was he begging me to forgive him?

I just stared at him, confused. "Dude, what the hell? One day you're scared shitless of me, the next you can't stand me, now you're begging me to forgive you when it's obvious neither of us give a shit about each other? What is this, Troy?"

"I do." Troy told me, a solemn look on his face. "Everybody's human. I totally misjudged you. I mean, I'm not a bad guy, really. . . I don't usually say those things."

"I understand we're all mortals but that doesn't mean that we all have to be best friends and make peace with each other, John Lennon." I muttered, lifting an eyebrow. "Seriously, you're freaking me out. What's your motive here? Did your dad like pay you to apologize and make the world a better place or something?"

He looked annoyed when I said this. "There's no motive – I feel bad. I mean, you were crying . . . I don't like it when girls cry."

I rolled my eyes looking back to my locker, "Well shit, Tom Cruise, I wasn't crying over you, so don't go all head-ass on me."

He didn't seem affected by my comment. "I know, but still. . . I'm sorry."

"You said I was a whore, and that I'm basically ugly. And that nobody could ever like me, when obviously all your friends do." I snarled, just to piss him off.

He sighed, aggravated. "You're not a whore, you're not ugly, and yes, some people do like you." He sounded like he didn't want to say all of this, like he was dreading this whole situation. But at the same time, I knew he wasn't going to surrender.

"Well, shit, you didn't have to tell me that – I already knew that." I told him in a very cocky manner as I slammed my locker door shut, turning to face him. "Now why the hell are you saying all of this?"

He flickered his eyes away in irritation again. "Like I said, I feel _bad_."

"And you think just because you're hot as fuck I'm going to forgive you?" I inquired in a more sarcastic way, cocking an eyebrow at him as he looked back to me with a skeptical expression.

"I never said that. . ." He mumbled a bizarre look on his face.

"Well giving me googly eyes all during Intermediate Writing wasn't helping." I joked.

"_Googly_ eyes?" He looked lost.

"Oh, please, you act like you're so subtle. It's extremely hard to not forgive someone who sits there and gives you puppy dog eyes the entire class and is obviously stalking you throughout the day."

"This isn't stalking." He looked so dead-serious it made me want to laugh.

"You're just not usually the first person I would expect to follow me around begging for forgiveness. I'm not Jesus, I'm just that girl you are scared shitless of, remember?" I reminded him, ignoring the frown he gave me. I sighed looking at his hopeless beautiful blue eyes. "I'll forgive you if you stop being so damn timid around me all the time – I'm not gonna rape you."

He folded his arms, "Fine; but I'm not timid."

"You are very timid."

"Am not." He pouted, like a child.

"Whatever Troy." I tightened my books in my hand. "And by the way, me forgiving you has nothing to do with the fact that you're really hot so don't get a big head over it, alright?" I smirked – that's pretty much the reason why I just forgave him, despite my good lying.

He didn't respond to me, so I made my way away from him, heading to my next hour. Strange man, that's what he was.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

Well, dang. Troy apologized, what a good boy. And by the way 'head-ass' is another term for being stuck-up/conceited. Ha, I learned it from a friend so I thought it was a bit funny. Just to let you know though… give me some reviews and I'll put the next chapter in Troy's POV and we'll see what happens now that they're "cool" again. By the way, I love Gabriella in this – her personality amuses me. I'm basically obsessed with my own character. Strange, much?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **And she's back again. Ha, just messing with you all. I'm hoping you don't dread my ignorant author notes. This is like when I get bored and rant on about things nobody cares about. They need to make like a College Musical a few years from now and all the HSM members need to reunite. Aha. My idiotic ideas. Let's get back to The Tramp Next Door. Love, Whitney.

* * *

"_And you know very well that I can't keep my hands to myself."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

_Troy's Mind-_

I'm not really sure what had taken me over. I guess it was the good guy in me that had apologized to Gabriella. I mean, normally, I wasn't a jerk to girls. Well, normally, I didn't talk to girls in general. I mean, yeah, sometimes Sharpay attempted to talk to me, but she rarely got a reply.

Sure, Gabriella's first response to my apologizing wasn't exactly nice. She basically said the same type of things to me that I said about her the day before. I mean, that kind of bothered me. But at the same time, it made me realize how much my words really tore her apart. Well, I think they tore her apart. I was still wondering if the girl had any heart at all, but I was starting to believe she might have.

I headed to lunch to sit with the guys. We always sat together at this large table – us popular basketball players if that's what you wanna say. I mean, no girls sat by us usually. It was all just us guys – mostly just Zeke, Chad, and I, and a few other guys on the team. But as I walked towards the table, I couldn't help but notice someone who was breaking the rules – Gabriella.

I couldn't help but frown by just the fact that she was sitting in _my_ seat. I was totally cool with her and I promised myself that I wouldn't act so erratic around her anymore. I knew that she freaked me out – just by the way she presented herself, just because she was so ridiculously bold about her every movement. She sat there like she owned the chair, like she was made to be sitting there, with a bunch of guys. She acted like this was routine. But it definitely wasn't.

She was toying with all of them, laughing like everything was funny. It was a typical thing for her to be doing, but I didn't know how to approach her. Personally, I just wanted my seat back, and I wanted her to leave our table. She didn't belong here – she was supposed to be sitting by Sharpay, or flirting with Ryan Evans or something. Instead, she was sweet-talking my best friends, giving them that risqué lip curve, confirming she wanted to charm them efficiently.

"You're in my seat." I muttered, lowly, as I made my way over towards her, now standing right behind her.

My friends just raised their eyebrows at me, like I was being difficult, like I shouldn't have even said anything, like I should have just pulled up a seat and shut my mouth. But of course, I was a very habitual person, and I couldn't let some girl take my seat, now could I?

It took her awhile to even realize I was behind her. She just looked at me like I was an idiot, "Pull a seat up, jackass." She sounded half-joking, and her smirk proved she was, but I couldn't surrender – there were no vacant seats.

"There's none."

"Then what the hell, Troy? If it's such a big deal, sit on my lap." She suggested, obviously not really caring that I was making such a simple situation into a huge dramatic episode. My friends just scoffed and rolled their eyes, "Unless Chad would like to offer me his lap." Her big chocolate-brown eyes flickered over to Chad, who looked like he had frozen.

"U-uh, well I wouldn't mind." He gushed, turning red like a madman. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, while Zeke just looked envious in every single way.

Before I knew it, Gabriella had gotten up, allowing me to sit down, and had scotched herself over to Chad, taking a nice leap into his lap. He just looked slightly nervous, but extremely delighted at the same time. He wouldn't stop beaming. It was kind of annoying. But I had my seat back, and that's all that mattered.

"So, Miss Legs," Zeke began, smirking approvingly at Gabriella, who was wearing a miniskirt that surely emphasized her thin, perfectly proportioned legs. But who was watching anyways, right? "When are _we _gonna chill again?"

Gabriella didn't even seem phased by his flirting, "When you stop talking like a jackass, I'd guess." She just chuckled to herself – amused by her own wits.

Chad looked uncomfortable with her on his lap, but he never complained. I knew I'd have to listen to him brag later.

"Well, as much as I'd like to sit here and starve, I'm going to get some food." Gabriella announced, pouncing off of Chad's lap. He looked a bit disappointed, losing the pressure of her on top of him. All right, forget I even said that.

I couldn't help but join their eager eyes, watching her sway towards the lunch line. I knew it'd be ignorant to say that she wasn't attractive, because she was. You'd have to be blind or repressed to disagree. Unfortunately, my friends never fought their urges to express their opinions.

"Damn – she's got some tight ass buns." I had to stop myself from cringing as Zeke murmured this, and I could easily tell by the way he was smirking that he was imagining what it'd be like to get her in bed.

Sometimes I wish that he would think about other things.

"God, she's gorgeous – isn't she?" Chad looked intrigued by her, mesmerized if anything. He just watched her, this dreamy look smacked across his face. To be honest, I've never seen him watch someone so intently before. Even Taylor had never gotten that much attention from him. It wasn't good.

"Don't you try denying that, T-dawg." Zeke gave me a stern look. "You know damn well that she's a fine piece of ass." I simply ignored him and took a bite into the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had packed away in a bag. Yes, I know, it was corny, but whatever. I was organized.

"Troy, you don't think she's beautiful?" Chad seemed shocked, as if he had just realized that I never said anything about Gabriella, ever. I didn't understand why they obsessed over my opinion about her, or why they obsessed over my opinion about girls in general. I was just into basketball and school. I didn't have time to being infatuated with someone who enjoyed trifling with four different guys.

"It doesn't matter." I didn't bother looking at either of them, as they continued watching the girl with captivated glances. Why did they even waste their time? They were practically oblivious to her intentions. It was moronic.

"Man, just say it, Troy. Just admit you think she's fine, do it." Zeke persisted – obviously assuming that I must have been mindless, acting like she wasn't.

"Dude, lay off. She may be attractive, but that doesn't matter." I cursed at myself for even confessing that I thought she was decent looking. Zeke and Chad's expressions changed drastically, well, more-so Zeke's.

He was provoked now, "Aw, shit, homo boy says Gabriella's attractive! Damn, Troy, so maybe you really aren't hanging with Aiken behind closed doors."

"I'm _not_ a gay, man. You can stop any time now. I just don't voice my opinions out like you guys do." I rolled my eyes, irritated by his constant ranting.

"Well, I understand, dawg, you think Gab's hot. Chad's gonna get with that shit, I can already tell. She was eying him all over, dude. You better tap that with gratitude, man. That's like a fuck of a lifetime." Zeke lectured Chad, who looked even more anxious about Gabriella now.

"You think so? God . . . that'd be great." Chad muttered, overwrought by his own thoughts apparently. "What do you think, Troy?" He asked – the usual best friend questionnaire.

"It's all you, man." I didn't want to get into depth with this conversation so I just tried my hardest to avoid it.

"No personal input?" Chad was pushing it, just as much as Zeke had been. I didn't understand why my own conjecture meant so much to either of them.

Knowing they weren't going to let me go until I said something, I decided to respond, "Well, I mean, she's hot – you should go for it. That thing she does with her lip, it drives me crazy." I most-likely said one two many things at once. That wasn't like me, at all. I mean, I figured it would satisfy them for a few days, maybe they'd lay off the subject of me possibly being uninterested in girls. That wasn't the case – I just wasn't shallow. I knew what Gabriella wanted.

"Her lip? What does she do? And welcome back, man." Zeke extended a hand in pursuit to high-five me. He looked confused – did he not notice that thing that she does with her lip? My eyes flashed to Chad, who wore the same look of bewilderment. Maybe I paid attention too much.

"I'm not sure – she does this thing where her lip kind of curves to the side in a more provocative type of way." She _always_ did that. I wondered if they were blind.

"Oh, _that_. Shit, that's enough to make a guy bust outta his pants for sure. But hey, looks like Bolton really does notice the sexiness behind the opposite sex." Zeke enjoyed rubbing this in, thoroughly.

I rolled my eyes, "Like I said earlier – I just don't audibly voice my opinions out loud." It was humorous how one guy can get accepted just by talking about how engaging one female could be. It makes you realize how easygoing the male species really is. I couldn't complain – we weren't the one's to make the drama.

Gabriella made her way back to us with a tray of junk food. Zeke looked anxious just to speak with her, or well, swing at her, if you will. He was grinning from ear to ear, and Chad just looked overwhelmed, obviously ecstatic about her sitting on his lap again. I wondered how my friends became so ridiculously whipped by one girl in just the matter of a few days.

I followed their eyes, inspecting her myself. I didn't get it, actually. She was beautiful, in a very exposed way. It was obvious to any guy that she wasn't hard to get with, that she wasn't hard to swoon. She just didn't care. She wasn't here to impress anyone or make a statement. She was just having a good time. I guess that was alluring. Honestly, I didn't know how to perceive the girl. Sure, when she did do that smirk, it kind of froze me. But I was still a guy, I still had hormones. I just didn't find it necessary to explore them like my friends wanted to.

She plopped right back down on Chad, making him uneasy again. I could notice the genuine grin on his face though behind her. He was savoring this that was for sure.

"So, I hope you guys didn't miss me too much." Her eyes were more prominently on Chad than anyone else.

In his nervousness, he managed to choke out a few words, "It was hard." He was definitely trying to charm her, but he was never smooth with talking. He wasn't that type of a guy. Sure, Taylor thought he was a romantic, but usually the girl had to do all the talking. I felt sorry for him for a second – he looked dubious. I began to believe that Gabriella made every guy feel shaky though.

"Mm, you're so sweet, Chadskee." She cooed, smiling at him in a more saccharine type of way. Zeke and I just fidgeted, and I began to wish she really wouldn't have sat here. This was going to be pretty boring.

"Did you know, you tend to have your own smirk; the side of your mouth kind of curves. It's so sexy." Zeke added in, and I looked at him, skeptically. I'm not sure why, but I felt a bit annoyed by him stealing my own thoughts. I was the one who noticed that – he didn't. I felt selfish for a second.

God, I must have been losing my mind. First I apologize to her, now I'm getting upset because Zeke stole my words? I seriously was about to turn into a lunatic.

I needed to regain my sanity. I exhaled sharply, "You know, I have to talk to Jason about basketball; I'll see you guys later or something."

Of course, Zeke didn't buy this. "Jason? Shit, bro, you never talk to Jason."

"Yeah, it's about Rocket Man, we were thinking about teaching him some smooth moves for the next game."

He raised an eyebrow, "You said yourself that kid blows at b-ball."

Now they were all eying me, atypically, "Well, yeah, but I mean, the kid's not that bad once you get him going. Jason and I have been training him." I was lying out of my ass, but I wasn't really concerned about them conceiving that.

"Um, okay. Well, see you later, man." Zeke finally bought in, as did Chad. They still gave me quaint stares as I made my way away from the table. I could feel the weight of Gabriella's eyes also on my back. I didn't understand why I was so furious about Zeke just putting my words out to Gabriella. It's not like I was going to personally say that to her.

* * *

I tried to keep to myself for the rest of the day. My strange behavior agitated not only everybody else (or so I thought), but it also got to me. I didn't get why I was suddenly being so nice to her, why I suddenly actually had concern for her feelings. Oh my God, I just seriously thought that I'm concerned about her feelings. Was I? I kept wondering.

At the end of the day, I headed towards my locker to get my things in a hurry. I just wanted to get to practice and shoot some hoops, let off some steam. Whenever I needed to think about something, basketball always got my mind off of it. It was the one thing in life that could make me feel at ease. I honestly believed I could get by with my life by just playing basketball and doing nothing else. That's how colorless my life really was.

"What was up with that whole episode you had today at lunch?" I kind of figured it was her; the attitude in her voice was pretty distinct.

"Didn't you know I tend to get randomly angry for no reason? I have multiple personalities – also known as a bipolar disorder." I wasn't even the least bit serious. I just didn't want to talk about the real reason I stormed off like an imbecile. I turned to face her, expressionlessly.

"Really?" Her brown eyes only seemed to glisten – they didn't even react.

"No. I really just had to talk to Jason." I bit my bottom lip, folding my arms as I met her eyes.

She finally responded by smirking – the side of her lip curving seductively, paralyzing me for a mere second. "Well, damn, you sounded so convincing. I almost believed you." Now she was folding her arms, also, her books in her grasp, tight. "I think I may make an appearance to your guys' practice tonight."

"I'm sure Chad would like that." I didn't mean for that to come out in such a frustrated way; I was actually attempting to be civil. That wasn't working very well though. God, I didn't even understand myself.

"What about the rest of you?" She continued grinning. "It's a surprise though – don't tell anyone." She winked at me.

"You know, he's crazy about you." I told her, informatively, not sure on where I was taking this subject.

Her grin never faltered, "Oh, _really_? That's a shame – I can't say my eyes aren't ever wandering elsewhere." I felt my breathing rate decrease tremendously as she inched closer to me. "You know, now that we're cool and everything and you're not acting like a petrified adolescent, I think it'd be cool if we hung out sometime . . . no strings attached." I could tell by the way she was titling her head and playing with her hair that she had no intention of being just friends.

And I was just having some kind of aneurism.

"Uh . . . well. . ." I was lost on words. She was so close to me, it seemed impossible for me to even move. I tried to think about Chad and all the other guys she was saying the same exact things to, yet at the moment, I was unable to feel any amount of anger. I was too speechless and far too stuck. I couldn't deny hanging out as friends, there was no harm in that. Surely I knew she meant more, but I couldn't put that out there either, or else I'd sound like a conceited jerk. "Alright." I agreed.

"Tonight? My place after practice?" I blinked in realization that she was dead-serious about all of this. It'd be pretty ballsy for me to say yes, but it'd be extremely insolent to say no. I knew that Chad would become completely envious if he found out, but my feet wouldn't move from the floor, and Gabriella was still doing that smirk. I began to realize how easy it was for her to manipulate people.

"As friends." I managed to comment, breaking my gaze away from her. "_Just_ friends." I could hear myself mumble, not sure if I was convincing either of us. Did she even have guys as friends? I knew her and Zeke were just friends, despite how attracted he was to her, but it seemed unfeasible – her not flirting with some guy. Naturally, she just did it without noticing. "We'll meet behind the school, after practice." I didn't dare explain why we had to do that – I knew well enough that if Chad seen us hanging out or even talking, he would raise an eyebrow.

"Of course. Sounds good." I watched as she licked her upper lip in a way that gave me a sudden aching inside that I wasn't familiar with. "I'll see you later, Troy." My name rolled off of her tongue in such a racy manner as her finger touched my shirt lightly before she strolled away from me, her hips swaying in beautiful motion.

I detested the fact that I was beginning to become vulnerable to her just because she was attractive. I mean, I understood, I was a guy, and guys are attracted to girls. But this was different – this was like driving me crazy. Suddenly, I realized the desire that the rest of the guys were craving. And it wasn't like me to even care. I mean maybe it wasn't even that. I think it was more physical than anything.

But God, I was getting myself into something I really shouldn't.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

Sorry for this crappy update, aha. There wasn't much drama in this chapter. Troy's just beginning to fall for Gabriella's sexy schemes if you understand. He is a guy though and guys do get turned on, of course. He had it coming. Will he handle it? And what will occur when they hang out as 'just friends'? You knew she couldn't handle not flirting with him. He's just too cute, of course. Review for an update. Love, Whitney.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** What's up, world? It's me, obviously. I've been updating like crazy. But I've noticed a slight decrease in my reviews. What's up with that? Oh well. I'm gonna enjoy writing this chapter, I just know it. I hope you enjoy it as well, and leave me a review; it'd really make my day! Love, Whitney.

* * *

"_But it's you I can't deny."_

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

_Gabriella's Mind-_

At the end of the day I was more than anxious to watch the guys play some basketball. Thankfully, I managed to completely avoid Sharpay, for she was just becoming an annoying, squeaky, ranting bitch again. I mean, seriously, she just didn't get it. She didn't understand why I would forgive Troy after he said all that shit to me. Honestly, I was for certain she wanted him, still. She knew I was the only barrier that could avoid her from getting with him. Ha, maybe I should take that as a compliment – her feeling intimidated by me. But shit, as if, Troy was up his own ass, how could he ever notice someone like me?

I couldn't deny that he was hot. That would be like saying the sky isn't blue. That's just making me sound like an idiot. I really didn't care. I did not care. Nope, not even a little bit. I asked him to hang out because. . . well, I still think he'd be a joy ride in the bed. Fucking him like a virgin for the first time – how indomitable. He'd be timid, shy, and stiff. But at the same time, he'd be in awe of the pure ecstasy I could bring throughout him. Damn, why am I thinking like this?

I'm starting to believe it had something to do with the myriad amounts of sweat pouring out of their bodies. They all worked so roughly, so intense – the looks on their faces showed nothing but aggression. It was rather beckoning, but damn, those looks could kill a mother fucker if they kept on looking.

Jack, in all his glory, stood behind the lines, watching them like they were children who needed serious sanctuary all the time. The guy was so damn big – probably about 6"1' at least, and his fucking muscles were like that of a bodybuilder. He had the same petrifying, ocean-blue eyes as Troy, but the wrinkle lines made it evident that his charming looks had aged within time. He was watching Troy more than the rest of them – his face was unreadable though.

Troy, God, he was like a master of perspiration or something. I'm not sure why he was drenched more than everybody else – I'd assume it had something to do with the fact that he played more fervid than the rest, but still. . . it was a bit frightening. He would whip his hair out of his face, and it was like God's fucking blessing to earth. I'm telling you, it'd send any woman of normalcy to her knees. Me, I just smirked and imagined him naked. Ha, ha.

Chad got extremely jealous over _everything_. When he noticed my presence, he seemed to become more restive. Suddenly, he was on the edge, trying to steal every ball from Troy, attempting to shoot every hoop, in hopes to impress me. . . not to sound conceited, but damn, it was obvious. He was pissed off when Troy sent him to the floor, every single time. I'm shocked he wasn't in tears over his loss of pride.

Zeke, well, he was the lazy one. He would stand beside them and bellow at them – complaining about how they weren't giving him the ball all the time, or how they were wasting all their energy on a stupid practice. He didn't seem very interested in basketball at all. I'm guessing the only reason he was even here was because Troy and Chad were his best friends. Plus, let's all face it; once you're a player on the East High Wildcats basketball team, you're like a fucking totem to the rest of the school. Zeke may have repulsed me entirely, but I wasn't completely incoherent to the sight of him hitting on other girls and them reacting accordingly. He _was _on the team. I honestly thought the school was way too damn cliquey, way too preppy, and far too innocent. I mean, where were the bad asses with the millions of tattoos all over their bodies, and the rejects that just wanted to kill anything that existed? In New York, it was so easy to find them.

They finished within a haste of time. Troy was the one who clinched the game, as he swats yet another basketball through the hoop. It was obvious to more than just me that he was the best player there. The others seemed exhausted and sick of being showed up by him. Well, who would've guessed it, Mr. Perfect did absolutely-fucking-perfect?

I was about to go and congratulate them. Maybe I'd be a lame-ass and shake their hands like they did to me on the first day of school. I decided against it. There was a reason Troy wanted me to meet him behind the school – he knew Chad was more of the envious type. Hell, I didn't mean to be leading Chad on. I didn't mind it, him following me around like a puppy dog. I mean, he carried my books, and gave me company, why wouldn't I take that? Plus, his curls were cute. He was like Shirley Temple – as a guy. Fuck, I didn't just think that, did I? Oh geez. . .

Point I was making – that little shit would've probably busted a cap hadn't Troy thought intelligently. He was already grunting when Troy stole the ball from him.

They all darted for the locker room, practically jumping over each other. Seriously, ever heard of patience? They were like a stampede of wild elephants, or wild cats. And Troy, no, he couldn't stand to keep his shirt on, he was like, stripping it off as he jogged towards the locker room. Had he not been so fast, I might've been able to actually see the muscles in his shoulders. Ugh, such a head ass, I tell you.

God, I needed to get laid.

Great, now I sound like a horny man who needs to watch a porno and get off to gay guys and lesbians. What is _wrong_ with me? I needed serious counseling. But even the counselor would look at me strangely if I just blurted out, "Yo, Holms, I need some help, ASAP. . . I've got these urges to fuck Troy Bolton, his jealous little friend, and a guy who wears pink pants. . ." Seriously, since when did I like guys that were more feminine? Ryan Evans was like the guy version of Sharpay.

It wasn't right.

I started heading out of the gymnasium when of course, I bumped into no other than Jack Bolton, all straight-legged and shit, like he had a cockroach up his ass. Yes, I have been talking to Zeke, leave me alone.

"Mr. Bolton!" Ah, what a pleasure – remember when I bawled you out so bad that you didn't know what to say? Hmm, good times, good times.

To my surprise, he didn't frown. "Gabriella. It's interesting to see you again. Interested in the boys' practicing? They work extra hard to beat out those cougars." I'm assuming he was referring to some unknown team.

"I've noticed – they're great." Now, I was going to go all kiss-ass, just so his son may become randomly captivated by me. Than, we can have the sweet, necessary sex I've been longing for. "I wanted to apologize about the other night, Mr. Bolton." Ha, man, I was kissing ass. . . go me. I put on this guileless smile and just tried to put myself back into the person I was when I was a church girl. "My comments were a bit unnecessary." Now, I sounded like a teacher. God help me.

"Oh? Well, actually, it's half my fault, really. . . I shouldn't have bragged so much. I just, I can't help but be proud – Troy, he's a great kid, always does what he's told. When I was a boy, I didn't get those kinda marks on my report cards; I didn't play basketball that good either. . ." Jack's facial expression changed – it seemed he was drowning in thoughts.

"Well, geez, I would be proud too – he does everything like perfect. It's amazing, really, and I'm not being sarcastic. He's so obedient – I wish I could be like that with my parents." Gabriella, you are the best liar _ever._

"I was never like that with my parents either." Jack's face actually seemed to lighten up a bit, or maybe it was just because the sun was beaming through the windows. I'm not sure. He just seemed friendlier. It deranged me. "I just wish he'd be more. . . I don't know, _fun_? He looks unstoppable out there, but he's always so uptight, never has a good time. . . I'm not sure how to get him one either." I thought I heard him wrong when he said _fun_ – Jack wanted Troy to be more easygoing? He wanted his son to chill out a bit?

"Whoa, wait." Now I was confused. "But I thought you're the one who always pushes him to work hard so in the end he can have his good time."

"Ah, well, see, his mother doesn't trust those boys. I'm not sure – Danforth's been around awhile, but that Zeke, he's a bit of trouble. . . I can tell." I could only chuckle when he said this. "I want him to have a social life. He's not experiencing everything to his full potential, I can tell that. . .and his relationship status worries me. . ." W. . .T. . F. . .

I just blankly stared at him. How was I to respond to something like that? Oh, well, yeah, your son is s virgin, how embarrassing, go play in traffic, you're a fucking disgrace and nobody likes you. Uh, no, but still. . .

"So, I'm sorry if he. . . well, acts a bit. . . reserved – he's just not so good with girls." It was almost as if he was implying that Troy and I were like involved in some weird other alien world or something. I was just muddled, and speechless. With me, that never happens.

"I mean, come on," A crooked grin appeared on his face, and I noticed that he and Troy shared the same cheek structure, and their grins appeared similar. God, that's fucking sick. Why am I scrutinizing this guy? "When I was his age, I was getting some every day." Wow.

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head as I just gaped at him, "Whoa. . . that is so tight." And then my old self came back, the church girl leaving. "Mr. Bolton, you're cooler than I thought you were."

We clicked. That's how fucked up my life was right now – I was beginning to like Troy's dad, of course, no nasty thoughts. I may have wanted Mr. Messacar in my bedroom before, but Jack Bolton? Dude, I'm not demented.

"I keep telling Troy. . .he says there's no one around here. It seems impossible. I mean, the least he could do was settle down. . . I had my rowdy stage but than I found a woman, ironically, who's my wife now, and relaxed. . ." Why he was telling me this, I don't know. "My son is in an eclipse, I'm afraid he may never come out. I think he just needs someone to teach him a thing or two." He sighed, and I still just stood there, astounded.

Was he like, trying to get me to fuck with his son?

. . . Dude, this was jacked up in so many ways.

Though, I already intended on doing it.

"I know, trust me, I know. . . and his friends question his sexuality – no offense, because we all know he's not gay." I responded, quickly, as Jack began to grimace. "I'll do the honors if you like." Jackass, I must have been drunk.

But, good ol' Jack just laughed, "Well, I'm just explaining to you why my son's a bit restrained. I've had this conversation with many girls." I raised an eyebrow – girls asked him about Troy's love life? Wow, poor guy can't have any privacy. . .

Interrupting our conversation, someone cleared their throat, and we turned to find Troy Bolton, who was casually standing by the gymnasium's entrance, biting his bottom lip, as always. He gave us atypical looks, but refused to question. He was all clean now – his hair seemed darker as it was damp, and it clung to his forehead, he had to flip it just to move it. He was wearing a pair of baggy shorts that hung low, and a white t-shirt that endured his muscles nicely. He actually didn't have a basketball in his hands – I expected he would, little obsessive douche bags.

Jack didn't act guilty, though I kind of did, as I looked elsewhere, feeling a bit awkward for even making conversation with the guy's father. I mean, why would I even approach the guy? I completely told him off the other night, and tonight, I found out that he was cool as hell! Seriously, if Troy only knew that his dad wasn't even trying to pressure him. . . I figured it was routine.

Father and son exchanged glances. "Dad – I uh, planned on retaking a test for Mr. Rosenbaum's class, so I won't be home until late tonight."

Jack seemed careless, "Sure, you better get that C up though – that wasn't so smooth, Troy." He narrowed his eyes and Troy seemed to just enervate after looking into his father's eyes. He seemed embarrassed.

I pitied him.

His eyes caught onto mine, "Yeah, I know. . ." He scratched the back of his head, slowly backing up, as if about to leave, "Gabriella. . .hey." He managed out; extending a wave.

"Hey." I put on a small smile, secretly amused that he was embarrassed about a 'C'. Seriously, I was flunking practically everything and he was ashamed because he got a fucking 'C'.

And then, he did something in a rather subtle way – he gave me a slight wink and then nodded towards the door, as if hinting me to come with him. He began to walk away as my eyes rested on his father, "Well, it was nice talking to you Mr. Bolton; I should get going though. . . I have this family thing tonight, wouldn't want to miss that for the world." Ha, my family hated me.

"I'm sure you wouldn't." He just gave me an amicable grin. "Thank you for the apology, Miss Montez, I got a bit caught up, I'll admit."

"Bye." Ha, I felt pretty insane after taking a leap for the gymnasium exit.

Troy practically smothered me when he seen me. I wasn't complaining when he yanked me by the arm and pushed me into a corner, demanding why I was talking to his dad, and what I said, as if I must have somehow pissed his dad off.

"Damn, you look a bit sexy when you're pissed off, Troy. Is that even natural?"

The blue in his eyes only adumbrated, "Gabriella, seriously, what did you say to him? I don't think you realize that when he's in a bad mood, he takes it out on me."

"Troy, babe, its okay, chill out, take a shit or something, you're like hyperventilating, and I totally misjudged your dad – he's kind of really tight, like the tightest guy around, well, besides Lil Wayne, of course." I smirked. His eyebrows seemed to furrow when I said 'babe'.

He finally let go of the air he had been holding in dramatically, ". . . What did you talk about?" he asked, picking up his backpack and basketball bag. He began to walk, and I just followed behind, loyally.

"Why are you like, Mr. nosy ass all of a sudden? He basically told me that I should like fuck the living daylights out of you because you never get any pussy and it's starting to piss him off. Imagine having a son who is as beautiful as you and never gets any pussy – there's obviously something wrong." Now he was just staring at me, his ocean-blue eyes were huge, like bug eyes. Yeah, that was worth it.

It took him awhile to respond. After about a minute, he finally murmured, "You've. . . got to be joking." His eyebrows seemed to knit when he was annoyed, and his eyes kind of squinted. He was still hot though. _Grrr. . ._

"Nope; your dad wants you to want me."

Now he was just looking terrified. His eyes were still huge, but I swear, he must have been debating on whether I was joking or not, either that, or he was just a retard in general. He seemed to take me seriously.

Well, I didn't want him to like, pop a vessel. "Joking, I'm joking." I promised, chuckling in satisfaction. "You looked like you were going to have an aneurism. I didn't want to be the cause of that." I grinned at him, as he just groaned at me, heading towards the high school's front doors. "We're taking your car I'm guessing?" He was fiddling with his keys.

"Yeah. . ." He answered, distantly, as we encountered the heat.

"You did well out there; by the way, you totally blew away Chad and Zeke." I mentioned, as we strode towards the school's parking lot.

"Thanks." Monotonously – he seemed lost in thoughts or something.

Meh, men are fucking weird. I swear this guy was like a woman though. He had like hair that doesn't move, it just lied there, and his eyes, they sparkled, plus, his skin. . . it glowed! He didn't look like those disgusting, over-baked Abercrombie models that made out with each other in their spare time and waxed their wieners. No, he naturally wasn't a fucking mannequin. He just looked good – he never smelled bad, he never had anything out of place. I mean, seriously. . .

I've never met a guy that just doesn't have flaws. His entire body was PERFECT.

I wished I could have said that about his car though.

"Wait. . . _this_ is your ride?" I almost shit myself right than and there. He must have been joking. No way would he drive this – he might as well put on a bandana and go dance on cars while he's at it. Ha, geez, how Zac Efron of me to think of that.

He needed a hillbilly accent. Or maybe he could just say he was Bella Swan. Yeah, that'd work, you see, he got the thing from Billy, it was a present, and Jacob Black's in the back, about to eat him. To make it fair, Edward Cullen is next to Jacob, wanting to suck the blood out uh… something.

Damn it, I need to stop listening to people and their little obsessions with Twilight.

Well, when all comes to hell, Carlisle can save us, he's a fucking gorgeous doctor.

Ah, stop, stop.

Troy's like going on and on, I haven't even been listening. "What?" Ha, now, he's like, pissed, and I can tell. Sorry, I was just daydreaming about Rob Pattinson and Taylor Lautner, don't mind me. . .

"I know. . . I've been working to save enough money for the real thing. . ." He repeated, louder.

"That's weird. . .but your dad is like Bill Gates, and your house is like Neverland."

"Well, I have to work to earn my keep, supposedly." Troy slid into the driver's seat, and I had to literally force myself into the passenger's seat of this junky old truck. The paint job was _fucked_.

"Are you sure this thing even runs?" Ha, I'm so fucking blunt.

He took it offensively, and just bit his bottom lip, not looking at me, ". . . Sometimes. . ."

"Oh, sweet Jesus, we are fucked." I muttered, leaning back so my head was looking up to the top of the truck – that even looked shitty.

"And why are you mixing up Bill Gates and Michael Jackson?" He suddenly asked, as he started up the car – it seemed to roar as it came to life. Ha, it was like a beast. It was the grossest thing I've ever witnessed.

"I dunno. MJ needs some friends." I shrugged, beginning to shuffle through my bag. "Does that radio work?" I asked, my eyes gazing up from the bag.

". . . Sometimes." Troy answered, again. He looked to me curiously, his eyes occasionally wandering back to the road.

I pulled out my iPod. Yes, I have like OCD with this thing – it always has to come with me, everywhere. Usually I get to rock out in my mom's Civic, so it works. Fortunately, Troy had the right compartment, and I had the tool that connects _everything_. Shut up, you do it too.

"Do you mind?" I inquired – not wanting him to flip the edge because of music. I knew some guys who would practically pummel me just because I turned off their music and put my own on. Seriously, guys are fucking harebrained.

"Not at all – just no. . . you know, Spice Girls or something." He seemed to cringe at the mention of the name.

"Dude, you don't even know me at all, do you? That's like Sharpay music. I'm like the _complete_ opposite of Sharpay." I reminded him, as I looked through my list of songs.

"Yeah. . ." He seemed a bit uncomfortable at the thought of my music blasting throughout his car. I'm guessing he thought it would either be some girly, squeaky chick that doesn't know how to sing, or some death metal band that talks about worshipping Satin and making the world a horrible place.

Nah, I was thinking more of the two best rappers in the world – Lil Wayne and Kanye West. Mm, my favorite men nowadays, I couldn't resist. My eyes were on Troy, "You aren't like, against rap are you?"

"I don't really listen to it. . ." His eyes didn't meet mine. "Rap and country aren't really my genres, I guess."

I rolled my eyes, "You are seriously missing out on the pleasures of life, Troy Bolton." I plugged my IPod into the compartment, looking through my songs. I knew what I wanted to play; I knew _exactly_ what I wanted to play.

_Playing with Fire_ by Lil Wayne came onto the stereo. I was shocked that Troy's bass was so fucking _tight_. I smirked as Weezy F's sexy voice came on the speakers and my eyes broke to Troy, curious to his reaction.

He seemed skeptical, and had the most erratic look on his face. I couldn't help but chuckle, and the way he looked surprised when Lil Wayne said pussy. He acted so green, so naïve to everything. He really was a virgin, wasn't it?

"Assassinate me bitch." I rapped along with, smirking.

Troy's eyes fluttered over to me, that same strange look on his face. And Weezy goes on saying pussy a few more times.

_But you can't blame me if I set this stage on fire._

"You can't say you don't like this." I gave him murdering eyes and he just chuckled a little – a cute smile half-visible on his face as he turned back to the road. "Come _on_; let Tha Carter III take you over."

He made a face as I changed it to another song by Lil Wayne, one of my personal favorites, and one I knew he would make faces about – _Pussy, Money, Weed._

I sighed in pleasure – I loved Weezy. I began to dig through my purse, in search for a cigarette. Troy's eyes came upon me and I felt his stare as I faced him, his eyes giving me a lecture I didn't need.

I pulled the cigarette out, carelessly, and pulled down the window, letting the sweet intoxication respire into me. My eyes closed as I breathed out the smoke, and I felt Troy's eyes on me again. I'm not sure whether he was pissed off or whether he was thinking sexy thoughts. HA! Yeah.

I allowed my head to drift out the window, where I exhaled more smoke.

_Oh yes I love her like pussy, money, weed, pussy money weed, pussy, money, weed._

"So, what's your input, I can see you over there, freaking because someone said the word pussy in a song." I grinned, my eyes closing – I was so addicted to smoking, I don't think I could quit now if I wanted to.

"Ha, ha." He didn't look back at me. "You're smoking in my car."

"This is a car? I thought it was a wagon." I joked, my eyes on him.

"I'll admit, despite the language, yeah, the beat was good. . ." The weirdest thing that Troy Bolton has ever said – it appeared right there. I thought I misheard him. I raised an eyebrow. Was he saying that he actually thought Lil Wayne's music was . . . tight?

"You liked it?" I was stunned.

"I'm not sure if that's the word, but it was alright." Still, he didn't look at me.

"Hmm. . ." I was lost in my thoughts, as we pulled into my driveway.

"My dad won't be home until late, so he won't notice the truck." Troy promised, as we both got out of the car. Seriously, he didn't even attempt to open the door for me. What a jackass, right?

As we walked in, a grin appeared on my face – Troy Bolton was in my home, with me, and none of my parents were home. No, I wasn't going to rape him, nor was I going to seduce him. Flirting isn't a bad thing though, is it? I mean, it couldn't hurt. Maybe I could get him to come onto me now.

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END OF CHAPTER

Sorry for such a bad chapter. It's so long though, and I felt like it wasn't. I wanted more than just the Lil Wayne scene but whatever. How does Troy feel? How will they connect, if they haven't already? Review and find out. Love, Whitney. Oh, and sorry about the language. It's rated 'M', so you really shouldn't get offended. :P


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Wow, I got a lot of reviews last chapter. Thanks, people! I am enjoying this, really. I hope you like this chapter. Remember to leave a review and let me know how I am doing. Love, Whitney.

* * *

_"Somebody please make her stop."_

_-_KANYE WEST

_

* * *

Troy's Mind_

I kept telling myself that it was just hanging out. It wasn't some kind of hook up or anything like that. God no, I'd never do that to Chad. I knew he was crazy about Gabriella. I couldn't say that I was certain she had the same feelings for him, but there was nothing I could do about that. It seemed to me like she didn't have feelings for anyone, _ever._

I didn't like rap. And I didn't like smoking.

She enjoyed torturing me, I could tell. I mean, it's not like this 'Little Wayne' guy didn't have a good beat, because he did. He had the rhythm or whatever rap singers realm for. I wasn't the type of guy who liked loud, fast music that I couldn't even understand. Seriously, I liked the easygoing, classic rock, or some acoustic music. Call me lame, but I really didn't enjoy Gabriella's music. I just pretended I did.

She led me directly to her kitchen, or well, just strolled there, practically forgetting that I was behind her. I stood, uncomfortably behind her, waiting for her. I tried not to look at her, tried to break my gaze away from her unbelievably attractive figure. God, I was about to lose myself completely. She had this short skirt on, her legs weren't as long as Sharpay's, but she got the point across from just standing. Was that even possible?

Self-control was lost, literally. I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. Man, get it together. I didn't get why suddenly I was so allured to someone so out of reach. Something happened that got me as absorbed as the other guys. What was it? What was it about her that made us all _this_ subdued? What was that magic she held that put us under her spell?

I mean, maybe it was her hair. It was long, it flowed beneath her back, and it was beautiful. God, I didn't just think that, did I? But you'd have to be completely blind to call her unattractive. She just wasn't. Her hair was filled with natural curls, brimming from her forehead. It was captivating, alright. She had turned the radio on, which was built underneath one of her counters. I became motionless when she began swaying her hips along to the beat, disregarding me entirely.

I seriously think she completely forgot I was even behind her. Within a few seconds, though, she twirled back around and faced me, "Something to drink?" She suggested her brown eyes filled with such fake innocence.

"Yeah . . . sure." I agreed, as she prompted me towards the small bar in her kitchen. I fell to the seat, trying to ignore the sudden jitteriness I felt. My legs were practically shaking. God. . .

I'm not even sure why. Maybe it was just hormones. Maybe _he_ was just about to have a complete upsurge. I don't even know. And she acted as careless as she could ever get, that drove me into even more madness.

"Here you go." She handed me a glass of water, and I hoped it could just be my miraculous remedy. Something had to pull me out of this sudden constrain I was feeling. "You look so damn nervous; I'm not going to eat you." She said, while taking a seat next to me. She had that smirk on her face, "I thought we were totally over the whole 'I'm-so-scared-of-you' behavior. You promised, remember?"

I took a large gulp of the water before answering, "I'm not nervous."

"_Liar_, and did you really like Lil Wayne?" She inquired, raising an eyebrow.

". . . Yeah, of course." Biting my bottom lip, I'm not even sure why I was lying to her. I figured she was the type of girl who tried to shove her likes and dislikes down your throat though. She expected me to like the guy.

"Isn't he fucking tight?" She just grinned. "Best rapper alive, for sure."

I didn't say anything, took another huge swig of water.

"Shit, you're pretty thirsty. I'd imagine all that working out could kill someone. You were sweating like a pig." Yeah, that sometimes happens when you're running for about three hours.

"Yeah, that happens."

"You still looked hot though. Did I mention I love your dad?" That was a weird sentence, almost too weird for me to function. Oh, God no. "Not in _that_ way, you sick fuck." She rolled her eyes, obviously taking in my freaked out expression. "He's tight; he was telling me about how he had sex with all of these chicks than ran into your mom. It was funny; I've never heard a grown man talk about how they used to get pussy back in the day."

I was really trying to act like I didn't hear her say that.

"I misjudged him." Yeah, he misjudged you too.

I took another drink of water, larger than the last. This time, it felt a slight jolt from it. I furrowed my eyebrows; confused on the sudden energy I was feeling. Gabriella held a guiltless expression . . . _far _too guiltless.

"Did you . . . put something in this?" I asked, looking at the water.

She snorted, "God no, what do you think I am?" She wasn't convincing.

I'm not even sure what I was feeling. I suddenly had a wave of endurance, as if I could run outside, or something insane like that. My heart started beating really fast. I wanted to do something, anything. It didn't feel right. And suddenly, it was like, Gabriella was unavoidable. I couldn't relax.

My legs were churning, like I had some sort of problem. I couldn't keep them still. I couldn't stop fluctuating. I was _so_ restless. I was almost scared.

And I wanted to grab _everything_.

I mean, even the table seemed undertaking. I didn't feel right, my head was spinning, like I just got done spinning an office chair in circles one million times, like I just got off a roller coaster ride that took me upside down too much. Gabriella didn't seem phased by my strange expressions.

"So, Troy, would you like to go to my room?"

I was taking another gorge of water, hoping to somehow erase the desire I had from everything around me. Her question made me choke on the water, which was kind of embarrassing. She only laughed at me, like that made it any better. "Yeah . . . sure." I had to take this casually, like a friend, hanging out with another friend.

I was craving for other things though.

God, control was my enemy right now.

Even getting out of that chair seemed rough, I almost tripped over something and fell on my face. Gabriella only seemed amused by my every move, like I was some idiot who couldn't walk straight. Yeah, that's pretty much what I was right now.

She led me up the stairs, and I couldn't keep my eyes to myself. Why couldn't I avert my glance? It seemed so easier before, it seemed _so_ simple before. I was behind her and I tried to break my eyes away, but God, I couldn't even regulate anything right now.

It just wasn't right.

Her room was the same as it had been that night her parents invited my family over for dinner. For a girl's room, it wasn't exactly feminine-like. It had posters of guys like David Beckham. It was classy though, the carpet a white color that made it brighter. The windows were big, and she had her own personal balcony. Ridiculous.

She went to her bed and fell onto it, sighing heavily. "Well, this is it, as if you haven't seen it before."

I stood, awkwardly by her door, biting my bottom lip, hoping it might not bleed.

She sat up, and patted the bed, invitingly, "Come on Troy, sit down, _chillax_."

Grudgingly, I took a seat next to her, not really meeting her eyes.

"Okay, so . . . 21 questions?" She smirked, and my eyes angled to her, not really making a response. "Tell me something about you that nobody in East High knows." She held a domineering smile on her face.

"Um . . . well," Honestly, I didn't know what to say. I looked to my feet, slightly intimidated by her heavy brown eyes, "I'm . . . not wearing socks." God, I was so lame, you'd think she'd just _stop_.

She just chuckled, "Oh boy, that's _so_ dirty." I could hint the sarcasm in her voice. "No, tell me something filthy, something that you're ashamed of, that it was so disgusting, most of your friends would kill you."

Ha, honestly, I had nothing.

"I don't have anything." I was a guy, but I knew as well as she did that I was pretty sterilized.

"Okay, then . . ." She looked as if she was pondering, "Where is your favorite place to masturbate at?" The question nearly made my eyes jump out of their sockets. Was she demented?

"You're . . . crazy, you didn't just ask me that." I suddenly felt extremely constrained and I couldn't look at her. She had to be crazy, she doesn't even know me and she's asking me these kinds of questions.

"Um, yes I did, you're a guy, so if you don't answer that kind of means you don't masturbate, which is totally lame because I think you and I both know you masturbate." She smirked, as if just completing a puzzle, resulting in a rather, more uncomfortable me.

My legs were _erupting_. I couldn't control everything, especially downstairs.

You know, this would work out easier if she wasn't hot.

Dang it, I hate my mind.

"Yeah, alright." I bit my bottom lip, again, this time, I swear, I made a sore.

"Admit it." She pushed, her smile never faltering. "Sometimes, I masturbate where you're sitting."

I seriously had to clench my fists to keep myself from just abdicating. I was so close to just diving in for _anything_. I couldn't take anything any longer. I felt like Zeke. God, this was disgusting.

I wasn't sure whether to react like a crazy man and jump ten feet away, or to just answer the question, despite the fact I was almost sweating from the intensity of the heat in this room. Yeah, it was so hot; I thought I was going to _die_. Do they have the windows open?

"The shower." The impulse was there, I had to cross my legs like a girl just to keep my sanity. She just gave me a look of shock, yet satisfaction. My expression couldn't have been more distasteful.

"Really? That's hot, how about before bed? I do it before bed, usually."

God, what was wrong with her? My eyes finally met hers in a bizarre state and I could see the amusement swimming in her eyes. She must have been out of her mind. She must have been.

"Gabriella, these questions are a bit personal, I don't even know you that well."

"Don't be a puss; masturbation isn't a crime, Troy." The words curled off of her tongue, making the rest of the room swelter from her pulchritude.

I had to fight every urge from wanting to do just that.

"Alright . . . whatever, yeah." I looked away, still feeling unstable and concupiscent.

"Ooh, I like that." She smirked, her eyes animated with delight. "Now, you ask me a question, make it _arousing_." Did she have to keep talking like that?

I didn't know what to ask her. I wasn't some kind of sex expert like she obviously was. Her eyes were boring into me, I couldn't ignore it.

Okay, something dirty . . . think like Zeke, think like Zeke . . .

"Alright, um, how many guys, have you, uh . . . you know?"

Her eyes angled, her lips curving in thought, "Well . . . um, what if I tell you I actually don't know the number?" God, had to ask the stupid question. "It's complicated. How far have you gone?" What was this, the sex survey?

"Well," I bit my bottom lip; she was going to seriously laugh at me, so much, "Everything . . . but full sex." I turned red, why was I admitting this to a girl anyways? I have no idea, I could've lied.

"Why didn't you have _full_ sex?" She seemed entertained.

"Someone interrupted it." I answered, not meeting her eyes again.

"Well, shit, Bolton, I misjudged you, you've actually got some gall. I figured you've never even gave a girl pleasure. You seem a bit high-maintenance."

"No, just, most girls aren't worth my time." I sounded so arrogant there; I should've just hit myself. Why I was suddenly opening up to her bewildered me. I think she seriously put something in that water.

"Why?"

"Just . . . in East High, they all get obsessive, and they want to get committed too fast, and then they get jealous over everything. . ." I ran my fingers through my hair, thinking back on the last girlfriend I had, about a year or so ago. She went insane because I had friends that were girls.

"Aw, fuck, I _hate_ jealousy. That's why I like you better than Chad, he's so damn grabby, he always gets jealous over everything and I never even did shit with him. It's annoying." She rolled her eyes.

Yeah, I tried not to believe her when she said she liked me better than Chad. That was just hilarious. She was lying to me, trying to get me to do stuff with her. I wasn't completely oblivious, you know. God forbid she would look at me and smirk though. She did, and I lost control of my body . . . again.

"Well, it's your turn." She gave me a smile, provocative.

"Um . . . God," I didn't have any idea of what to ask. My eyes scanned around her room, searching for something to ask about. I needed a topic. My eyes lay on a bulletin board, pictures I didn't recognize before. There was a picture of her and some guy I never seen before. She looked different. She looked innocent; she wore no makeup, natural. I couldn't help but realize how beautiful she looked, and her smile seemed so _real_ . . . as if her smirks weren't even a sign of happiness from her. She was looking into the guys' eyes, while he looked back to her, the same smile on his face. Her hair was still long, curled, and gorgeous. I found myself staring at it.

"Troy?" She inquired, lulling my thoughts.

I looked back to her, "This is kind of weird, but," I looked back to the picture, then fixated my eyes on her, "When was that? You look . . . different."

Her eyes followed mine back to the picture and I thought I seen a flicker of affliction appear in her eyes as she looked away from it, a sudden anger emitting the room. "Doesn't matter." Her tone became rigid, hateful.

The constriction in the room became unbearable. She was just glaring into the distance, lost in her thoughts, somehow. I looked down, unsure of what to even say to change the mood, to enlighten whatever I said that was wrong. Somehow I always said something messed up to her, somehow I always got tongue-tied around her.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to meddle. I just . . . never mind." Yeah, I was pretty stupid. I scratched the back of my head, my eyes glancing around her room, clenching my bottom lip with aggression.

"He fucked me over, that's all." Gabriella finally said, the same resentment coming from her voice. I found myself watching her now. She was looking out the window, as if reliving something. "That's why I fucking hate you men, you're all the same."

I didn't say anything; I didn't know _what_ to say. I was pretty positive there was nothing I could say to make her feel better. She looked crushed, destroyed. Not only did she look furious, she just looked so broken. I thought she was going to cry. I was positive she was going to cry. Her eyes were like mirrors, reflecting sadness and pain. I suddenly felt sorrow for her, not for the first time either.

"I don't know I just don't like this world. It's like, everyone's out to get me. My parents don't even give a shit about me. Hell, to them, I'm nothing but a mistake." She sniffed her nose, and she _had_ to of been crying. But when I looked her way, she pivoted her eyes, not allowing me to see the tears irrigating from her eyes.

It reminded me of what my dad said, of how Gabriella goes to sleep at night with no one by her side because she pushed away everyone that ever tried to love her. I don't know what I was exactly feeling at the moment. I mean, a few minutes ago, I was ready to thrust myself inside of her, and now, all my self-control had been ravished. I was caving in, except, this time it was more on the emotional side. I was feeling bad, again.

"Gabriella, I'm sure if you talked to your parents, or just, tried to do something for them, they'd be impressed, or just try and talk to them." I don't talk like that, that tender, sensitive tone. I was the good guy, but I was never this softhearted towards a girl, especially one that wanted to have sex with all my friends.

"Fuck, Troy, it's not that easy. No one fucking understands me." Her eyes turned directions, now she was just looking straightforward, emotionlessly. "God, I have no idea why I'm telling you this shit, like you actually care."

"It's alright." My eyes landed on her and she turned to face me, a certain distinction coming from her eyes, some kind of feeling. I thought the girl was heartless, maybe she wasn't. Maybe there was more to it.

"Do you . . . really think I'm unattractive, Troy?" The question was so unexpected, I was shocked at her question. Her eyes never left me, leaving me with a feeling of intimidation.

"No . . . I say a lot of things I don't mean when I'm angry." I confessed, looking away, unable to face her. She was always so blunt, I think it's the thing that scared me the most about her.

"Am I . . . attractive at all, to you?" I could see the curiosity in her eyes, though I was not even looking at her.

Awkwardly, I looked to my feet.

"Of course . . ."

* * *

_Gabriella's Mind_

"You're..." He bit his bottom lip, tightly, as if about to say something he might regret.

I watched him, wondering what he was about to say. He suddenly looked very uncomfortable, his eyes not meeting mine. "I'm what, Troy?"

"You're... beautiful."

"Beautiful?" My heart seemed to dance at the words - he couldn't be serious. He just couldn't be. Nobody has ever called me that since Jason. Even when Jason had said it, it never sounded _that _wholehearted.

"Yeah." He scratched his head, still not meeting my gaze. I could notice the faint color that had spread across his cheeks and I couldn't help but grin. I wanted so badly to just go and rip his clothes off, the more innocent he acted, the more I wanted to destroy his innocence. I mean, what was wrong with me?

"People usually don't say that to me, with the exception of Zeke, who well, doesn't count." I chuckled, the air around us suddenly filling with seriousness. It seemed weird, almost unbearable, the sudden unusual silence that came between us.

"Really? Well, you are." Troy's eyes had finally met my face again, the color vanishing from his cheeks. He seemed actually surprised.

"... Thanks." A smile appeared across my lips. "You're sweet Troy."

* * *

_Troy's Mind_

"Is it true, that you can sing and dance?" She suddenly asked, her mood seemed to change after I called her that.

God, I really didn't mean to, I just didn't know what else to say. It seemed like I was just making this worse. Chad was going to _kill_ me.

I rolled my eyes, "Who told you that?"

"Sharpay, duh." She chuckled, her mood suddenly changing dramatically. In no time, she was the old, risqué Gabriella again.

"It was a _dare._" I told her, not meeting her eyes as she watched me with diversity. "I did it out of a dare; I wasn't supposed to get the part. I mean, alright, it was kind of fun, but only because there were these little kids, they looked up to me, it felt good . . . being an inspiration for someone." I didn't mean to sound so ridiculously perceptive. I was never Mr. Sensitive, at least, not usually. I was a basketball player; I was aggressive, not some dancer.

"You're so . . . I don't know; you're like no one I've ever met." Gabriella whispered, her eyes locking onto mine, her comment sounding more genuine than I've ever heard. "Like, all you want to do is make people happy and it's like, you'll do it despite whether you're happy or not. That's so fucked up, but at the same time, it's so . . . thoughtful." Her eyes sparkled as she said this, and then looked away. Suddenly, a grin appeared on her face. She moved to her feet and gave me a mischievous grin. She grabbed my hands, attempting to yank me off the bed, "Teach me to dance."

"Gabriella, I don't dance--"

"I know you can!" Unexpectedly, she gripped me off the bed, our bodies colliding. I almost fell over, hadn't her hands been in mine. My eyes snapped up to hers and I felt unstable, all over again. "Hold on." She broke away from me for a second, turning up her radio's stereo that was underneath her television in her room. A rather slow, melodic sound came on. "Aw, I fucking hate this song . . ." She mumbled, a look of sorrow appearing in her eyes. "Whatev, I don't care anymore." I heard her mutter, as she made her way back towards me.

She grabbed my hand again, eagerly, "Come on, don't be a douche bag, Troy!"

"Gabriella, I really forgot how to, I swear . . ." The expectancy in her eyes only made it harder. She drew me so close that I felt my breath fade away, and I felt my entire body weaken.

"This was me and Jason's song, I hate it." She whispered, looking back to the radio. I didn't know who Jason was, I figured he might have been the guy on her bulletin board.

_You know I'm such a fool for you; you've got me wrapped around your finger._

_Do you have to let it linger?_

Her eyes trailed back to mine and our eyes met, brown and blue. "I'd like to just forget, you know? Help me?" A grin appeared across her lips, and she looked to our hands. I suddenly realized we've been holding hands.

I broke away, the intensity getting to me, "Gabriella . . . you and I are just friends, this isn't fair to Chad or . . ."

Before I could continue, I noticed her body venturing so close to me. My lips instantly shut and I couldn't say anything, becoming completely consumed in our intimacy. I could feel her breathing against my face. Sultry, yet addictive, I gave in so much. Her hands appeared on my chest, and I could feel the ends of her fingertips, savoring the touch of my muscles. My eyes were stuck on hers and the pressure of the moment was so hard to deal with. My urges were becoming more and more prominent and I found myself doing something I rarely do - I was moving in towards her.

_And I'm in so deep; you know I'm such a fool for you. You've got me wrapped around your finger._

I could almost feel the heat of her lips, my eyes had already closed and I felt like my body had been lifted off of the ground entirely. Gravity seemed irrevocable. The centimeters between us, they were boundless.

Breathing was lost.

And then, I felt a rush of air. My eyes opened and I found Gabriella standing inches away from me, a look of disgust on her face, "It's really late, you should probably leave." I became so confused, I'm sure it was dead-panned on my face. "I'll see you tomorrow, Troy." She said, her voice suddenly penetrating me.

Wordlessly, I looked at her, still not understanding what had just happened. Why did she back away? Why did I not want her to back away? Why was I about to kiss her? What was wrong with me?

I almost felt rejected.

Pitifully, I grabbed my jacket from her desk, my eyes on her one final second, and then I walked out the door, not sure on anything anymore.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

A/N: Why didn't Gabriella go for it? WOWOWOWOW. Unexpected? Exciting. Review and we'll see what happens now that Troy's kind of . . . obsessed? BTW, keep in mind it's mostly physical attraction. Most guys wouldn't fall in love that quickly, so right now... it's just, he's just feeling urges, you know. Hope you enjoyed the dirty 21 questions! :P Review, review, review! Love, Whitney.


	13. Chapter 13

_

* * *

I'm always wanting you._

-BLINK-182

* * *

_Gabriella's Mind_

I've always noticed that Blink-182 is one of the best bands in history. I don't think it's distinctively what they sing, or the feelings they capture, but more-so their lead singer, Tom Delonge. He was the sex of the world, I swear. He still is. I could sit and listen to him all day. His voice is so damn wonderful, like a gift sent from the heavens. God seriously put in a vocal box for him and said, "Use this."

_All of this _played from my radio, loud and clear. Basically, it's about a guy who fucks with a bunch of girls, but he can't get his mind off of that certain one. It's like, despite what he does, he's still attached to the girl. I'm not sure why I'm particularly drawn to this song, or why any body else would be. But I seriously think his hormones were out of control when he wrote this. Seriously, he sounds so fucking horny; it's almost as if he can't stand it any longer. He's yearning for her.

I have no clue why this has anything to do with the fact that I almost kissed Troy Bolton, and that he almost looked upset when I backed away. I really don't know why I think so randomly sometimes, but hell, I guess we all do, don't we?

I can't really explain why I turned away from him, why I pretty much dismissed something I really wanted, something I thought about more than anything. I wanted to pursue it; I wanted to just get him going, to get him excited. I couldn't stand the way he looked so vulnerable, the way he would 'casually' adjust his member when I wasn't looking, the way he would bite his bottom lip when I mentioned anything that had to do with masturbating. I couldn't handle that he was so innocent. I felt like I knew him almost, like I had to feel guilty for leading him along on this little rope of mine. With Ryan and Chad, it was so much different. They were like saints, yes, but with Troy, he wasn't a saint, he was like an angel.

I can't act like I know exactly what I felt at that moment in time, or what forced me to jerk out of it, what frightened me half to death. Maybe it was because I actually felt something real when I was looking into those eyes. Or maybe it was just his eyes in general. If there was one feature of Troy Bolton that surely could mesmerize you, it'd have to be those eyes. They were blue, but they were different than most blue eyes. They had more colors to them, as if they had some gray in them, and some green. Like he has the type of eyes you'd see on a celebrity in a movie, or some model, or something. They were unrealistically eye-catching, and once you got caught in them, well, shit, it's hard to get out. They played tricks on you.

Maybe it was the way his hair was, the way it dried from that shower so quickly, and just scattered across his forehead in a swept mess. It was like he did something to him, as if he put tons of products on it or something, but I knew he didn't. It just moved on its own, it created its own style.

I think what got me was the look in his eyes. It wasn't like anything I've ever seen. Sure, there was a mixture of curiosity, possible desire for us to just meet. I could tell by the way he would take steady breaths, the way his legs seemed to shift awkwardly, the way his eyebrows would soften. But there was something bizarre noticeable in his eyes also - fear. Yes, I just thought that . . . _fear - _like, when you go on a camping trip and you see a bear, you're about to piss yourself because you're so afraid of the thing. He seemed shaky, maybe even panicked. I wondered if maybe the reason he was doing it was just because of obligation, because he didn't know how else to react. But no, that didn't seem possible, the way he was acting nervous . . .

So, yeah, besides the burning fervency of want I could see in his eyes, he also seemed scared shitless. I don't know why, but I started feeling felonious, like I was doing something wrong. In all truth, I kind of was. We hardly knew each other. I was treating him like I would treat any other man back in New York City. It was obvious that kids from around here weren't like them. They weren't for the whole 'hook-up' thing. They were dead-serious.

Troy, I'm not sure what he was. I could tell he had his serious side, by the way he said, "You're beautiful." I can't really explain what I felt at that moment. My heart did something it hasn't done in a year. I felt some kind of cadence. My heart seemed to dance, almost fathomed. It seemed absurd. I was almost grateful, like it almost sounded truthful. He looked so sincere. But at the same time, when I was asking him personal questions, he started _answering_! He actually admitted that he masturbates in the shower. Seriously, that was fucking insane. I couldn't help but think _maybe_, just _maybe_, beneath the good, 'I love you - you love me' exterior held something a bit more naughty.

I wanted to let it out, and that annoyed me.

And well, I wanted to see how big _he_ was.

Shut up, a girl's got to wonder.

Now, I didn't know what to do though. Yes, I completely fucked up; I lead him into thinking we were going to make out and then just moved away, like a little girl terrified of boys. I didn't ever pull away, no matter what. Also, something else happened tonight. I started _expressing_ myself; I started talking about the past. I started to break. My walls fell down for a second. And he didn't even say anything to trigger it. It was just suddenly his presence alone. Yes, he was attractive, but that didn't mean I could start spilling my heart to him, could it? I didn't understand anything. I hardly even knew him well enough to trust him. He was a good guy, I knew that. He wasn't a jackass. He had feelings for other people. There were a lot of things he seemed to not give a shit about, but that just made me believe even more that I needed to discover what was going on with him. Now, I felt like I just ruined it all though.

My eyes lifted to that bulletin board, my eyes falling on Jason. Why'd you have to cause this? I'm a monster. I can't even care too much, it just doesn't feel right. I felt solid inside when I realized we were so close to kissing. I felt a void, as if it had just opened after all these months. My mouth went dry and I had a clench in my stomach, as if something had just punched me. I couldn't go through with it. Once going in, I'd never come out, and neither would he. It'd be a roller coaster, just a fucking roller coaster. And I'd fuck it up because of my habitual ways, because I have to be a whore, because I can't care too much. I can't shatter again; I can't let someone get the best of me again.

For that moment, I had lost my own self-control. That doesn't happen, and it never had in the past. I almost felt for a second that I couldn't pull away, that I couldn't do it. I couldn't move - my feet felt like they were glued to the floor. And finally, they moved.

I felt even worse when he shot me this almost hurt, shocked expression. He looked almost upset, disappointed that we hadn't gone through with it. I began feeling stupid for even pulling away in the beginning. Then, he shoved his hands into his lazy basketball shorts and left me alone, left me alone here to shrivel into nothing, feeling sorry for myself, while listening to Blink-182.

I walked outside, onto the balcony that was attached to my room. The stars polished the dark black sky, and New Mexico's heat seemed to fade down slightly. I just looked at the stars, remembering how when I was a little girl, I would always tell my mother, "One day, I'm gonna grab them, and pull them down." You know, regardless of how stupid that sounded, at least I had some sort of motivation, right?

My parents had gotten home and were arguing downstairs about the most shocking subject - me. Oh, they enjoyed bitching about me, about how I was such a worthless piece of shit, about how they should just leave me in the streets and let traffic run me over. They were fucking stupid.

* * *

"You . . . _what_?" Sharpay looked stunned, her brown eyes all big and animated.

"I almost kissed Troy Bolton." I said it monotonously, and I could tell that pissed her off too. I began to walk away from her, carrying my books alongside of me. I really hated school; I hated the fact that it was only Wednesday, too. The week was going by so fucking slow.

"Gabriella," Sharpay breathed, ganging up with me, "Troy is like the hottest guy in the school - everybody wants to touch him, everyone wants to be his friend, even the _gay_ guys want him. No joke."

"Yeah, well shit, that sucks for him."

"You're insane. Seriously, you guys almost kissed! I can't believe you pulled away. He would have kissed you; you would have been kissing Troy Bolton!" Seriously, she repeated things, a lot.

"Look, you shithead, I told you, yes, he's hot as hell, yes I want in his pants, but last night was just fucked up for some reason." I didn't want to explain to her that I gave a shit, then she'd really spread the rumors.

"You don't seriously wonder how big it is?" She asked, stopping me from my trail.

" . . . Dude, of course I wonder how big it is. You think it's big?" I inquired, turning to face her, as if we were having a normal, everyday conversation.

To me, it was pretty normal.

"He has big hands." She's a jackass.

"I'm sure that screams it out. He kept touching himself and shit, I swear."

Her eyes were like bugs, "Oh . . . my . . . god, you're joking, right?"

"I swear he masturbates in the shower." I think she almost shit herself.

"REALLY? Oh my god, that is so hot!" People were looking at us funny as Sharpay just kind of bounced up and down like a retarded Furby.

"Yeah, but don't tell Chad or Zeke, I don't want a bunch of second grade shit started. Apparently Chad thinks we're getting married and Zeke is just a loudmouth." I told her, sternly, as I began to pick up my pace again.

"Well, duh, as if I would actually blab that around. Please, I'm not some dramatic gossip queen or something." I really didn't believe her when she said this, but whatever. "So, are you gonna like, ask him to hang out or something? I mean, this never happens, Troy _never_ likes girls from around here."

I was kind of surprised by Sharpay's almost enthusiastic behavior. I thought she'd stomp her feet and make a big episode about Troy and I. My main point was to actually piss her off, but it only made her go ballistic and suddenly I just _had_ to have sex with Troy. Maybe she just really wanted to know how big his penis was, I have no fucking clue. That girl is so jacked up in the head.

"I have no idea; he probably thinks I'm a weird-ass for moving away like that. I can't help it, that kid has some pretty eyes, it's almost unsettling." I halted at my first hour and turned to face Sharpay, who still looked exhilarated about the idea.

"Do you like him?" Dumb bitch, she always had to ask that.

"No, stop asking me that." I demanded, turning around and leaving her there. I was so sick and tired of her asking me those kinds of questions. Maybe I did like Troy a little bit but why did that even matter? She was such a nosy person; she needed to mind her own business.

* * *

Lunch came around swiftly and I found myself being surrounded by Chad Danforth and Zeke Baylor as I approached my locker. That was nothing new.

"Hey Gabriella," Chad wore that humble smile, a slogan t-shirt, and a pair of jeans as he approached me, Zeke at his side.

"Yo, yo, Baby G, what it do?" Zeke jested, that stupid smirk on his face.

"Oh, not much here, yo." I joked back, sarcastically, snatching my books. They basically invited me to sit with them at lunch for the rest of the school year. I wasn't really complaining - it was better than sitting alone or bugging Sharpay and Ryan.

"So, what are you up to this weekend, Gabriella?" Chad inquired, watching me with his big chocolate brown eyes. He had his arms folded and he was leaning on my locker.

"Uh, not much, probably partying."

"Aw, hell yeah girl, we gonna party it up. I'll buy some patron and you can sneak some weed."

"Ha, Zelda, that's a good one." I snickered at him. "I mean, hell, if you buy the booze, I'm good."

"I think it'd be cool if we got together sometime." Chad suggested. (Why the hell does he keep trying to hang-out with me? Obsessive virginal wildcats.)

"Yo, Troy!" Thank you Zeke! Actually, not so much thank you . . . fuck.

Zeke was waving at Troy Bolton, who was heading towards us.

Shit, damn, piss, cunt, fuck, ass, dick,

Yeah, I ran out of cuss words, shut up.

But seriously, I almost _died_. Troy just looked so good, in his jeans that seemed tighter than usual. Maybe I'm just really crazy about the idea that he has a body, that's all. And that stupid belt needed to be undone already. There were the stupid checkered vans, and a shirt that was all white at the chest and green on the sleeves. I've seen him wear a similar one that was red. Did he have like twenty? Geez.

When he got up to us, he said hey to Chad and Zeke, his books clinging to the side of him. Then, his eyes moved over to me and I stiffened. We both lingered there and our eyes didn't seem to move until Zeke said, "Alright, pussies, let's go get some lunch, I'm hungry."

Troy's eyes broke away from mine and I followed behind them as Zeke headed towards the cafeteria. I paused for a second, my mind overflowing.

Troy was barely passing me and he gave me an atypical cock of his eyebrows. He looked like he was going to say something, but he didn't. Zeke and Chad were already in the cafeteria. Seriously, they act like they like me, all obsessive and shit, but then they just don't even realize that I'm gone.

Troy was about to continue walking when I heard my voice, "Wait, Troy."

He turned around, hesitantly, and I found myself in his eyes, the eyes that I was talking about - the ones that play tricks on you. "Are you mad at me?" Stupid question, I guess, but I couldn't think of much else to say. It was weird how words were so futile right now.

I approached him, my old self taking the best of me, yanking him out of the cafeteria so nobody could see us. Now, we were in the hallway, he was leaned up against the wall, and I stood in front of him, inquisitive eyes bouncing back at him.

"No . . . I wasn't really, in my . . . uh, right mind last night . . ." The words clumsily came out of his mouth and he bit his bottom lip. Damn it, he doesn't have to do that so much.

"Likewise, but, dude, I don't know . . . I thought it was kind of fun." I let a rather provocative grin appear on my face and I watched as he took it in, shifting his eyes uncomfortably - so vulnerable.

"Yeah . . ." His eyes trailed.

"You didn't have a good time?" I asked, perplexed by his sudden distant behavior. Ha, sudden? As if, he's always like this!

"No, that's not it . . . it was cool," Troy looked like he was forcing the words out, "it's just . . . this is kind of weird, I mean, what _was_ that? How did we get to that? Like, we weren't supposed to . . ." He looked so confused, and now he was sort of rambling, his eyebrows furrowed.

"You wanted to, didn't you?"

His eyes looked away from his shoes and met my own - blue met brown. It's hard to explain what his expression was. He looked startled by my honesty if that's good enough information, and possibly looked speechless, as if he didn't know what to say.

"Yeah."

Messily, the words came out of his wonderfully shaped lips and I found myself wanting to just shove him into that fucking closet over there.

Then suddenly he moved his hands through his hair, looking up to the ceiling with annoyance, "Man, did I just say that out loud? . . . Dang it." He murmured.

I couldn't help but chuckle at him, he was so fucking cute. "Oh, please, Troy, you looked like you were ready to bust out of your pants any second. Look, fuck Chad, and whoever else, I think you're really hot, and last-night I really wanted to. . "His eyes were on me, intensifying, "I don't know why I did that." I didn't want to lose the chance of getting with him though. "I think I'm going to your guys' game on Friday . . ."

"The tickets cost money." He informed me, still leaning against the wall.

"I kind of want a front row seat," I cooed, nearing myself to him. It seemed to get him because I could tell it was hard for him to breathe, he started inhaling a lot, "Think you could get me some?" I gave him flirty brown eyes and a sickeningly sweet smile.

He hesitated for a second, trying to keep his gaze away from me, but then he broke, and his eyes met mine, "Yeah . . . probably," He breathed, his breath tickling my face - something minty, I think, Icebreakers most-likely, "I mean . . . I guess."

He seemed so tongue-twisted.

"Aw, thanks, Troy, you're so sweet." I winked at him, and he slightly dithered.

"Um, yeah . . . I guess," He bit his bottom lip aggressively and then looked elsewhere, looking uncomfortable again. I wished he would just lighten up. "There's an after party afterwards . . . if we win, I mean, you know . . ." His eyes met mine again and I noticed something suggestive in them.

"Was that an invitation?" I snickered.

Nervously, he looked to the ground, "Yeah." Awkward ten year old or something.

The ridiculous part about it was that I thought it was cute.

"Well, sounds good, you guys will do awesome, I bet." My finger hung on his shirt, and a painful expression appeared on his face. I'm not sure if it was a painful good or bad, but there was something there.

I turned my heel, looking back to him one final time. His eyes remained on me, and they didn't move. A look of innocence appeared on his face, his lips departed momentarily. He licked his upper lip and I felt my knees slightly wobble. Fuck, what was wrong with me? Just walk away. And don't look back.

Yeah, I'm the queen of walking away.

God, I wanted him so bad, was this even normal?

We both took our seats at the lunch table, ignoring the strange looks that the guys were giving us. I could see the tension of jealousy appearing in Chad's attitude. What was wrong with him? I seriously felt like just saying, "Kid, you don't stand a chance."

So now, I kept thinking about Friday . . .

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

I know, it sucked, I'm sorry, don't hurt me! But, you'll notice that Gabriella kind of feels bad about things. She doesn't really want to hurt Troy, just because she feels like he's a really sweet guy. But at the same time, she can't stand not toying with him. The real question, how does he feel, and will she screw him over in the end like she has with so many other guys? Well, review to see what Troy thinks next chapter. PS, be excited because this is rated M, and that means there will be some . . . scenes in this story. I know, I'm stupid, I should stop being so dirty. :P I can't help it. I'm psyched. Love, Whitney.


	14. Chapter 14

_

* * *

If I'm just bad news, then you're a liar._

-TAKING BACK SUNDAY

* * *

_Troy's Mind_

I was nervous.

Alright, that was an understatement - practically freaking out. I knew that this was our big chance, that this was our golden moment. We never made it this far before. We were so close to kissing that trophy . . . so close to having the victory in our bare hands - it was like dangling right in front of us. It wasn't an option to lose - it's only been the thing we've been anticipating for the passed few weeks.

Even the locker room smelled worse. Was that possible? I seriously almost fainted from how horrible it smelled. All the guys were throwing on their basketball jerseys. I headed over to my locker, center of the entire room. I guess it was like everybody could watch me change if they _really_ wanted to - but honestly, I don't even wanna think about it.

Being the team's best player, I was forced to be the channel of interest. I knew my dad would be throwing me expressions, _begging_ me to do my best, to win the game, to be his son and do everything perfect, like I'm supposed to.

I threw on my sleeveless red jersey, on the back; 'BOLTON 14' was in huge letters. Not really sure why I'd have to describe a basketball jersey to anyone, its appearance is kind of obvious.

A few guys patted me on the back, encouragingly, saying things like, "Man, we're gonna whoop them," or, "Dude, we're killing those Cougars tonight . . ."

Chad's locker was right by me. He came in late, and all the tension in the locker room just built up. He was angry. Actually, he was beyond that - his face was a furious red and his fists were clenched into balls of steel.

Chad . . . he was _never_ mad, ever. I didn't think it was possible for him to get mad. He was always the forgiving, peaceful guy, never made a big scene about everything.

Then he entered the locker room like he was ready to murder anyone in his path. Even the rest of the guys looked over with curiosity. He completely ignored everyone though and just headed to the locker. I swore I heard him pound his fist against it before scrolling the code.

Yeah, Danforth was _pissed_. I wouldn't usually say that, either.

I was best friends with this guy - like a brother to him, since I was like four. And I'm telling you, within those amounts of years, I had never seen Chad boil so much as he did right then and there. I seen him breakdown and cry a few times over Taylor, but I've never seen him look like he wanted to kill someone.

After he threw on his jersey, he took a seat on the bench, tangling his hands through his hair like a guy who had just lost one million dollars. Everybody else seemed almost afraid of him. I mean, Chad wasn't aggressive, but right now, it was as if he would hit the next person who spoke to him.

I was always the best with picking the right moments though.

"Man, where are your lucky socks?" I joked, dropping my eyes to his high tops.

I'm not gonna go into detail about this but we all had a pair of socks that seemed to extend our luck. It's kind of lame, but it was a small team, and we were all good friends. I considered it more a joke than anything . . . even though I wore those socks anyways.

I probably should've stopped there - guys don't like to discuss things, you know that, I know that better than anyone. Chad and I were like brothers though; he's always had my back. Usually he just told me what was up - Taylor, school, basketball . . . this time, he just glared at me.

"Man, screw your lucky socks, I could really care less Bolton." Harsh, that's all I gotta say.

"Dude, what's up with you? We have like fifteen minutes until our game. This is it, Chad, seriously, this is our last chance." I took a seat next to him on the bench.

"I don't _care_, Troy." Chad grumbled, viciously averting his eyes from me. "I can't believe . . ." He paused, and I knew he wasn't going to continue.

"What?"

"You know, man, you know _well_. I thought we were like brothers, man. I gave you my fucking basketball when you lost yours, man." He finally spoke up, his fists trembling in violence - his eyes just burning rage into the floor

_Oh . . . crap._

"You didn't like her, so you said, and then you go and try and make out with her? Man, that's so messed up, even Zeke was shocked."

It was almost inevitable - this conversation. I had no idea how he found out, but I knew exactly who he was referring to. "Gabriella."

My hands raced through my hair aimlessly, "It's not like that man. Who even told you that? She totally came onto me - I didn't do anything."

"Exactly, you didn't do _anything_ - you just went with it. You know as well as I do that she's just using you too. She used me, now she's gonna mess with you man, and I hope she fucks you over bad man, just like you fucked me over." He stormed off the bench, the entire room filling with an abnormal thickness.

A storm surged through my veins as I stood up, "Why does it even matter so much? I don't _like_ her man - yeah, she's attractive, whatever. I can't help it that she likes me better than you, alright? You don't even know a thing about her." I yelled back to him - the entire locker room now watching us, as if we were that entertaining. Yeah, alright, I knew he was mad, but seriously, I knew Gabriella's intentions very well. I can't help that my feet don't move sometimes.

And when I say sometimes, I kind of mean, _a lot_. Gravity just never let me pull away.

Plus, Chad didn't even know Gabriella. I didn't really either - but it was like; he didn't even know why she was so . . . the way she was, or what happened before she met us. He didn't know what I did - he didn't see the way she actually lit up with emotions for a second or two.

Stiffly, he turned to face me from the door of the locker room. I could tell that this was gonna be bad. I could tell this was going to get ugly. It wasn't because everyone was watching us, or because we were fighting over Gabriella (not the case), it was because it was us, in fact. Us, as in Chad and Troy, 'brothers', 'best friends', whatever . . . the stupid things we made pacts on when we were kids. I knew I messed up, yeah; it didn't shock me that it got around. But I really don't think I could've prevented it. She was drawing her nails up and down my shirt and grinning like the devil in disguise. Yeah, it was the darkest sin of all, but at that second in time, it was like an addictive want that I couldn't push aside.

Down there, things couldn't have been more uncomfortable. I wanted to adjust myself but I couldn't even do that. I was just frozen in a spot, anxiety and desire just taking me over in some kind of staggering state. The entire night was like that. I wasn't the type of guy to get easily turned on by a girl. Come to think of it though, no girl had the gall to do what Gabriella did. The fact that she moved away . . . God, it just made me even more eager. I couldn't read her though - I couldn't tell whether she was just kidding, that she was using me, or that _maybe_, I just didn't care whether she was or not. I felt kind of desperate at this point. That wasn't supposed to happen.

The fact that I was thinking about all of this while standing there, eye-to-eye with Chad, really didn't help matters. Of course, just the annoying thought of Gabriella brought some kind of arousal to me. I tried to clear my thoughts . . . but it seemed only obvious that I _did_ want Gabriella. And I wasn't helping my case by getting all arrogant about it either. I didn't know who she liked best. I didn't even know if she liked anyone. This felt like just a game of temptation. I was just one of the few idiots that were falling for it.

"Man, she's just a girl . . . I swear, Chad, you're like a brother to me." Yeah, it was pretty pathetic that I was sucking up to him after sounding like a complete imbecile. I mean, I already made this bad - I told him that she liked me _more_; he was already resenting me. I was just making it worse.

"_Brother_?" Chad just snorted, not even worrying about the many eyes around us. Then, he advanced towards me, and I could see his muscles taut together like _nuts_. Now, he was losing his mind. It made me realize that maybe he actually liked her more than I thought. But he could have had anyone - he knew that. But so could I. And so could Ryan Evans.

Yet we're all playing in a ring of fire.

God, this sucked.

If looks could kill, Chad would have pretty much destroyed me there. I could tell he wanted me to just disappear. Come to think of it, I _can_ remember a time when he got pretty mad . . . similar to this situation.

There was a time when he became almost bloodthirsty for some guy on the football team. The guy was a prick - he kept hitting on Taylor, and Chad was getting sick of it. This was when Taylor and Chad were pretty strong and Chad didn't want anyone coming in between them. Compared to us basketball players, the football players were _huge_. But all football players are pretty big, that's just a given. They only work out twenty-four hours a day. Anyways, Chad had nothing on these guys. He knew that the guy could probably smash him if he wanted to. He was like a kid to them - he couldn't block the punches if he wanted to. Plus, he had a reputation to protect - he couldn't just start getting his butt kicked by a bunch of football players.

We went to this party and everything was great between Taylor and him. I came with them with Zeke and a few other people I knew showed up, but I was never a big one on parties. I never enjoyed watching people down booze and dance around like idiots. I didn't get the objective there. They said it felt good . . . couldn't say I've experienced much of that. I've never had time to get smashed at a party and thrust myself into random girls'. So, yeah, it's pretty primitive, I guess. You'd expect something cliché - Troy Bolton, girls like him, so he takes advantage of it, he's a man whore. Why is the 'cool' guy _always_ the player, the man whore, the guy who makes so many mistakes that it's almost embarrassing? I was one hundred and twenty percent positive that East High was a bit offbeat pinning me as the 'most wanted' - I've never even taken a drop of alcohol . . . even when I was a kid! Yeah, I know what you're thinking - that kid really has no life. When I was young, it was all about grades and basketball . . . I didn't care about girls or my friends were doing. Yeah, I was popular, but I wasn't about to drink to fit in. Again, I'll thank my dad for making me rather level-headed . . . desperate for sex, but completely level-headed . . . I'm totally rambling again, right?

It's gotta be whatever Gabriella put in that water. I had this feeling that it was still with me, or something. I promised myself I wouldn't get too worried about it - at least, unless my penis grows or something . . . then, well, yeah.

Story . . . story . . . right, so, of course, that guy that Chad wanted to beat up, he was really grinding on Taylor - who was too drunk to speak correctly. Chad was drunk too, (not half as drunk as Taylor, but drunk), he hardly even noticed it. He was actually up against some girl all night, too. They've never been really the best for each other, just a little 'thing' for a few weeks, then 'just friends' again. But I was sure that beyond that, there was some chemistry. I mean, Chad seen this, and he just lost all of his mind-power. I was hanging out with a bunch of seniors, who were semi-sober . . . and we were talking about basketball, when I seen him start a scene with this huge, 6"1', monster . . . his chances were dead. He was shouting at him - slurring through his words, and when I seen him give the guy a nice, half-ass shove, I knew that I needed to be the peacemaker and get him away from the guy.

I had to practically race over there; Chad had lunged to the guy, shaking him wildly like I've never seen before. I'm not sure if it was jealousy, hatred, or just a bad reaction from the alcohol. The guy didn't cease after this action though - he kicked up his knee, Chad flying back in pain, groaning. I knew Taylor was getting frustrated and worried. But he didn't give up - he got back up, as if that wasn't enough. The guy shoved him into the wall, the stone-wall's pressure overtaking Chad. "Man, stop, you're making a fool of yourself." I told him as he muttered incoherent words. He surrendered after that, not having enough strength to even get up off the floor.

I guess in the group, I was considered the "peacemaker" also. It wasn't like I wouldn't start a fight if someone started one with me, because I can't stand not defending myself. I just never liked my friends fighting, especially over stupid things, such as girls. And here, Chad and I were, about to knock each other's eyes out because of a girl - because of Gabriella Montez. I guess it was kind of ironic.

"Brothers don't do that kind of stuff, man." Chad's eyes kind of proved I betrayed him, but the glint of envy appeared along with it. I figured he was thinking, 'You don't even like Gabriella - you don't even know what liking is.'

"I didn't do anything." I kept my cool, trying not to get upset. I knew if worst came to worst, there'd be a fist fight and my dad would have to come in and pull us apart.

"Well, yeah, because you're so fucking innocent, you do no wrong. When are you gonna wake up, man? Sure, you're the most sought out guy in school, that's the only reason she even tried anything. Don't even try and act clueless now though. Everybody in the school can tell there's something going on, and Gabriella's obviously not afraid to admit it to Sharpay."

_Sharpay_. I would've slapped myself in the forehead, hadn't the entire basketball team been watching me. God, that was just so Sharpay. But the thought that Gabriella told her, that kind of annoyed me. She _knew_ Sharpay would tell everyone. How couldn't she? Sharpay had the biggest mouth around.

"Troy, you gonna let him just sit there and talk shit?" Someone I couldn't point my eyes on asked, breaking the silence in the locker room.

This whole lost-in-my-thoughts type of thing wasn't working well today.

I cackled, making a face that only mocked Chad, "You wanna fight me man?"

I guess his face wasn't that intimidating - until now. And then with all in a brief second, he charged me into the locker behind me, his fists at the height of my head. Everybody seemed shocked at this, and I felt my breathing increase.

I felt rage and a rush of adrenaline - taking him by the shoulders and attempting to drive him away from me.

"She's gonna hurt you." Chad grumbled, unable to take on my strength. Everybody knew I worked out ten times more than he did and that he stood a little beneath my level. However, right now, he wasn't budging. "I hope she does, because you're a liar, Bolton, you're just a spoiled rich kid; you think you're God because your dad used to be one of the best. I can't believe I thought you were my best friend."

When he said this, I just grunted, slamming him into one of the lockers. The people around us were wide-eyed, astonished, "Man, she's just a girl. Don't get all mad at me just because she doesn't like you."

He shifted up to his legs, trying to grasp me by the neck. He might have, if my dad hadn't walked in just when I glared at him, sincerely, ex-best friends' eye-to-eye. Surely that was going to be in the yearbook.

"What the hell is going on in here?" It wasn't like my dad to cuss unless he was extremely mad, of course. My dad seriously scared the hell out of me when he was angry - the guy was big enough, and he had authority over me. It's either do what you're told or get slapped across the face. He never had - but I'm saying, my dad can't manage his anger, at all. Neither of us even looked at him. "Troy! What the fuck? Danforth? We have a game in five minutes! What is this, bull shit?" Chad released his grip on me roughly.

"You should have seen it - Troy was whooping Chad's ass, weren't ya Troy?" Jimmy 'The Rocket man' was pretty hyped up, pumping his arms up, looking to me with electrified eyes. No offense, but he freaked me out . . . not only did he try to be just like me, but he was _everywhere_ - randomly nearby me in the parking lot, once at some fast food place, and another time . . . he actually came to my house! He said he was just in the neighborhood. And, he's been bugging the living crap out of me about getting my locker after I graduate.

I frowned as my dad took in Jimmy's comment, his eyes scanning from me, a look of confusion and disappointment in his eyes, to Chad, who was just not even looking at him, his eyes grimacing at the floor, as if it was his worst enemy.

"You children better work it out because we have a game to play and I need teamwork, I don't need this childish drama shit, especially not from you, Troy." My dad's eyes fell to me. Yeah, of _course_, all my fault. Dad, she was hot!

How can any guy seriously think about Chad when they're about to meet lips with someone like Gabriella? You can't think of anything. You're not even thinking. Your bodies just still and the only thing stimulating in it are your hormones - the damn chemical reactions. I think . . . I'm not really sure what was going on down there, though - besides the fact that I had to stop myself from getting too excited about something so casual. Yeah, that'd be kind of embarrassing, say something elevated throughout the time that her body was thickly against my own. I didn't even wanna know what kind of smart comment she'd have for that . . .

All the guys were heading out of the locker room, most of them snickering about the previous situation. I guess it was kind of a big deal since Chad and I never get in fights, nor have we ever just well . . . assaulted each other like that. I'm not even sure why I didn't just walk away before things could get bad. Something went off in me like an alarm and I'm not sure what. When he said 'spoiled rich kid', and 'you think you're God because you're dad used to play,' I just snapped in half. Man, I was so sick of people judging me by my money and my dad.

Chad stormed off in a few minutes, not failing to send me a nice glare before slamming the locker door shut. Feeling stressed, I sighed heavily, raising my eyes to the ceiling, my hands behind my head. There were a few guys that hadn't left to the court yet. My eyes slanted to Zeke, who was a few lockers down from me.

Zeke hadn't even changed yet - how predictable, I guess. He was standing by his locker, on one of the benches, ranting on to three different guys about something, or probably, someone.

"So, and then I was like, girl, that shirt is very becoming on you - although if I were on you, I'd be coming too." I rolled my eyes as he was telling them some corny pick up line he used on some girl. Of course, the guys emitted into fits of laughter, like little girls.

It was kind of disgusting.

"Yo, man, what's up?" I folded my arms and leaned against one of the lockers.

Zeke, still taking pride in his joke, faced me - his face falling immediately. "Oh, shit, wassup man? That was some sick shit - you and Chad." He sounded less enthusiastic than usual.

"Yeah, I swear I didn't even do anything."

"Well, shit, I highly doubt that. That girl is one fine piece of ass - I'll admit it, but as much as I'd like to, I couldn't get that close to her - thought you understood the rule between us bro's, no hoes."

"_Zeke_," I gritted my teeth together, my aggravation rising, "There's no rules - we're guys, not girls. Man, she doesn't like him, she doesn't like you."

"What the fuck? And you think you're jes so damn special, she must like you?" Zeke erupted into a bunch of hysterical laughs, eying his group of friends who just chuckled. "You're funny, man, you crack me the fuck up."

"I don't think she likes me - it's just, you guys don't even know her."

"I know her pussies' kind of loose." One of the guys added from Zeke's group of friends.

"Yeah, she messes with guys a lot, or something." Another one continued. "She is hot as hell though."

"Chad was really into her - you shouldn't have done that." Zeke's voice was low as he finally began to throw on his jersey.

"Done what? Not moved my feet? She invited me over, she tried to make-out with me, and she kept asking me personal questions . . . it's all perfectly innocent."

"_Innocent_? Fuck that, man, don't you start lyin' your little pretty ass off now. Gabriella's not even close to innocent; she wants to fuck everything that has a nice vibe to it. You've even said that yourself."

You know what sucks? He was totally right; I did say that. . . not word for word, but yeah.

"Man, you're so simple-minded; you listen to everything people tell you. She hasn't even done anything with anyone here yet." I didn't realize that I was frowning at him, suddenly becoming angry.

"Troy . . . you're scaring the shit out of me," Zeke did looked a bit terrified when he turned back to face me - fully dressed in his jersey, "You fucking hated her a few days ago, now you're like in love with her."

"_No_." I denied, biting my bottom lip sharply. "It's just, Chad doesn't even know her, he wasn't even trying, so whatever man. And it's not like we were doing anything, so he's just being a girl about this situation."

"Yeah, he kind of is, but man, you guys have been best friends since you were like shitting your diapers. And also, don't tell him I told you this, but Chad knows damn well that even if Gabriella is using you, she'll probably end up feeling emotional shit for you too. And I'm saying that in a none-Clay Aiken way, too."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever man."

"Well, what the hell, Troy? You act like I'm a complete dumb ass. She flirted with you more than any of us. Hell, she actually invited you over to her house and was about to kiss you. Rumor has it she pulled away because you're too good of a guy. But now she wants more. What the fuck does _that_ tell _you_? A, she's demented, well, hell yeah, man. B, she wants you, to fuck you and to hold you. C, she obviously doesn't give a shit what Chad thinks 'cause she just spread it around that she almost made out with you."

"Man, are you mad?" I asked, suddenly taken back by his comments. Man, stupid, excitement. He threw his bag down, shuffling through it, his back turned to me. I clenched my member over my shorts - I seriously thought I was going to explode. It was between the heat in the locker room, sex, Gabriella . . . how do they even take place in the same sentence? What is _wrong _with me?

"I don't care, man, I ain't the one you fucked over, but yo, you guys need to work some shit out 'cause we have a game to play, and you two are our best players." Zeke turned to face me, my hand moving away from my crotch. "Man, were you jes. . ."

Oh, great . . . "Man, shut up."

"Wait, I really hope to hell you don't have crabs, man, I'm thinking maybe you're thinking of how sexy Gabriella is, not how sexy I am . . . 'cause you know I ain't into that Clay--"

"Aiken type of stuff, yeah, I know, drop it man." I grabbed the basketball from the floor. "You ready to kill them?" I bit my bottom lip, suddenly psyched.

"Hell yeah, Captain, let's go, jes no more of that grabbin' your cock shit, I get kinda nervous around other cocks, you know, I'm not comfortable about that sexuality."

I rolled my eyes, shoving the basketball into his hands on our way towards the court.

"Nah, I'm jes fucking with ya, Bolton, I'm glad you're attracted to girls. I really am - 'Cause now I don't have to worry 'bout you tryin' to grab me or anything."

Yeah, that's my friend Zeke alright.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

Oh, gosh! Ha, sorry I loved writing this chapter. It was a lot of fun. I'm sorry Chad's being such a drama queen. He'll get over it. Just right now, he's kind of mad. Some guys do get very angry about that kinda stuff. And yeah, Troy's getting pretty . . . :P oh, it's fun, don't lie. I was amused. I highly suggest you look up pictures from a vacation Zac and Vanessa casually went on like two years ago. There's a few of Zac shirtless and one he's literally grasping himself. It makes me laugh every time. Zeke's not gonna be an asshole, he's cool. But yeah, this was long, and I hope you liked the end. And the dirty Troy thoughts :P or, well, reactions. Eh, I'm sure he'll get more creative. :P "Whitney, shut up, you're annoying, we don't care about you and your little dirty thoughts ." Hopefully that's not the case. PS; Sorry there wasn't any Gabriella/Troy action this chapter . . . next chapter . . . oh baby. **Review**! :)


	15. Chapter 15

_

* * *

She's fresh to death._

_She'll be the death of you._

_Seduction leads to destruction._

-THE MAINE

* * *

_Troy's Mind_

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened back there. Can't we just forget about this? She's all yours for the taking, man."

It was pretty much pointless to try and make things right with Chad now. He had a frown on his face that proved he wasn't going to forget about anything. He was acting like a second grader about it though. I mean, this was a girl. Chad and I have been brothers since we were like, four.

"I mean, we've been practically brothers since we were four. She's just a girl."

The game was about to begin, and I was standing by Chad, just trying to get him to talk to me. It wasn't because I regretted almost kissing Gabriella, and it wasn't because I didn't want to fight with Chad. To be honest, I just didn't want us to lose this game. Everybody knew that without teamwork, we were goners.

"Dude, I don't care." Chad grumbled from beside me, his eye on the ball.

"Troy, get up here!" My dad shouted to me.

I groaned loudly, realizing this game wasn't going to go so well.

I headed up to my dad who had a look of concern on his face, "Look, I don't know what happened between you and Danforth back there, but we don't have time for games, Troy," His face turned hard as a rock, "We _have_ to win this."

The team members were developing a circle around my dad, Chad too.

"Here's the deal, our main goal - get the ball to Troy, boys." That was always the goal. My dad knew that I was the best player, and I rarely missed a hoop. If everybody collaborated together, we'd be sure to win this. "We already discussed everything else early. Now, let's get out there and win."

I bit my bottom lip, "What team?" I tried to gain enthusiasm.

"Wildcats!"

"What team?" I repeated.

"Wildcats!"

"Get your head in the game!" We all went at once, throwing our hands into the circle and then pulling them out.

I could hear the audience from behind us going wild. My stomach churned with nerves as I headed to the middle of the court, my opponent giving me a dead stare from the other side. The referee held out the ball and threw it into the air. We both jumped up, but I was faster. The ball headed in our team's direction.

Adrenaline rushed through my veins as I speeded down, eager to collect the ball from Jason Cross, who had stolen the ball and was now being guarded. Swiftly, he passed it to me. I dribbled it down to the hoop and ignored the person blocking my view. I attempted to slide the ball into the hoop from the side and somehow, it went in. I heard a chorus of cheers from the audience and I couldn't wipe off the grin of pride that appeared on my lips.

This was going to be a good game, I had a feeling.

One of the players from the other team had gotten the ball this time. They were heading towards our hoop and I felt a sudden fear flux through me. I then relaxed when I saw Chad guarding the guy with all his might. The guy tried to push the ball into the hoop but Chad graciously pilfered it from him. I sprinted down towards the hoop, realizing I was in perfect range. I then remembered the argument and the fight Chad and I had today.

He couldn't, no he had to pass it to me.

His eyes flickered to me and I could see the resentment in his eyes. I heard my dad yelling, "Pass it to Troy!" and I held out my arms, just hoping Chad wouldn't screw this up. Everybody else seemed to be yelling the same thing as my dad, even Zeke.

The person in front of him seemed stubborn. They wouldn't move for anything. But then Chad swerved his head in the direction of the hoop. Don't even think about it, man. I thought. There was no chance he could make it, not even close. That guy was way too tall; he'd block it in a heartbeat.

It all happened so fast. In a second, he plunged the ball towards the hoop, and I found myself watching the ball swoop into the hoop's net so flawlessly, I felt envy. The guys on my team went nuts. They high-fived Chad and slapped his back, impressed that he could make the hoop. I just scoffed and rolled my eyes. That was so risky. He could have missed. He got lucky. Even my dad was congratulating him. I cringed.

We were winning, yeah. I just couldn't seem to get the ball after that. Chad hogged it the entire time. He wasn't even supposed to make the plays he was making. He wasn't supposed to go for those balls; I was the one in charge of them. But every time, he got us a point, and nobody seemed to care that he wasn't me.

I was boiling in jealousy. That was _my_ job. I looked over towards the crowd and I could point out my mom looking confused. Even Sharpay and Gabriella had looks of confusion on their faces. I felt like I was misplaced, like I didn't belong. Chad was taking up my spotlight. I was the star player, not him.

I was busy slightly pouting about this when I felt a massive pain in the back of my head. A sudden force of some sort, I'd guess. My mind clouded up as I felt the aching in my head. I lost vision of everything and felt dizzy. I heard a few people call out my name and I could barely make out faces that came up to me. It must have been my dad and the referee. My dad struggled to help me towards the front row of the audience. Everything hurt. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I was blacking out and the surge of pain in my head increased. I groaned and drifted my head back so my eyes met the ceiling. I felt a sudden aloof feeling on my head. I realized my dad had put an icepack on my forehead.

I'm not sure who hit me with the basketball, but I imagined Chad could have 'accidentally' moved it my way. I couldn't hear the loud voices any more or the cheering from behind me. My whole world was spinning.

I think I fell asleep after that. Or maybe I just faded out for a little while. My eyes blinked open after who knows how long, and the voices and cheers became prominent to me again. This time, there was less volume.

"The game . . ." I muttered, noticing my dad next to me. I couldn't think of anything else. I became worried about the game - had we won?

"We won," My dad said from next to me, "how are you feeling, son?"

I ignored the abnormal fact that my dad was actually worried about my health and I found myself looking at a crowd of Wildcats, surrounding Chad Danforth, the guy I grew up with, my practical brother. I winced in realization that he must have won the game. They were carrying him around like they always carried _me_ around. I burned in annoyance and found myself clenching my fists.

"Great." I found myself murmuring out loud. My father raised an eyebrow at me as I got off of the bleachers, heading towards the locker room. Half of the audience had left now and the only people around were my team members, who were busy obsessing over Chad.

I bustled into the locker room, and slammed my fist into my locker with anger. I wasn't the type of person to get really upset, but I was really sick and tired of everything. I was so furious with Chad and everything; I could have just hit him had he been standing right there in front of me. He was being like this because of a girl, because of a stupid, unimportant girl.

I let out a loud groan, ripping my locker door open and grabbing my jeans and t-shirt. I was in such a bad mood. I sighed heavily and took a seat onto the bench, holding my forehead in my hands.

"Damn, Bolton's letting off some steam."

A familiar voice uttered from across the locker room. I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. I could feel the bizarre feelings building up between my legs all over again. God, don't even remember, Troy.

"Now's not a good time, Gabriella, and you're not even allowed in here . . ." I almost laughed at myself for saying the second part. Gabriella didn't care. She wasn't going to listen. She never did what people asked. Why did I even bother saying that? She basically knew. It didn't stop her.

I heard her make her way into the empty locker room, her heels clamping across the tile. I let my eyes sneak a glimpse of her. As usual, she looked . . . well, hot. I mean, she wore this skirt that rid up to the top of her thighs. It was a jean skirt. Her shirt was a ruby-red long-sleeved shirt that showed a lot of cleavage. It rid up to the bottom of her stomach, revealing just a bit skin. Her hair was flowing, as usual, in bunches of natural curls. I forced myself not to stare.

She chuckled, "I don't follow the rules." A grin appeared on her face as she moved closer towards the benches, her hips oscillating so attractively. Breathing seemed impossible. "Are you alright? You took a nice beating out there."

"I'm fine." I told her, moving my eyes away from hers as I bit my bottom lip. My eyes were concentrated on the floor. I still sat on the bench, my legs sprawled, my eyes distant.

"Chad was like taking a shit out there. What was up with that? I heard you two got into some kind of brawl." She chuckled again, and I could sense she was standing behind me. She smelled like Britney Spear's _Curious_. That was . . . distracting.

"Yeah, well, Gabriella, you really shouldn't be talking to me right now. According to him, it's like you guys are committed, and I'm the jerk of a best friend who tried to kiss you. Just to let you know, I didn't try; it just . . . came into place." Yeah, that didn't help matters much, Einstein. I never say the right things around her though.

"Can't you just admit it? You find me dead sexy and right now, you feel so much heat in your pants that it's unbearable." She smirked, that disgustingly beautiful smirk, and the moment she said that, I really felt a sort of desire between my legs.

Damn.

My eyes went to the ceiling, "I really don't want any more drama."

"Chad's being a little girl. Fuck him." She said it so casually. I noticed her taking a seat beside me on the bench. "Seriously, who gives a shit? He's obsessive, compulsive, possessive." She chuckled. "I heard you whooped his ass though. That's kinda hot."

"I would of . . . then my dad came in." I muttered, cursing that moment. I ran my fingers through my hair, "Look, really, can't you just . . . leave me alone? I mean, it's obvious to me you're trying to start things. You told _Sharpay_."

"Dude, are you fucking me? Sharpay has always been weirdly obsessed with you. I thought I could piss her off by telling her it. Instead, she like, wanted to throw a party. She's demented, I swear." Her eyes rolled back to me, "I don't wanna start anything. Chad's just a bitch."

"Something like that," I mumbled, "it's just, he won the game . . . he just . . . took my place."

"Dude, he hit you with a ball. He's just a jackass. Forget him." I found my eyes meeting hers, "You invited me to the after-party. You guys did win, you know."

"Yeah, well, I think I'm just gonna go home. I don't wanna end-up in another fight." I told her, honestly.

She rolled her eyes, "Don't be a fucking douche, Troy. You invited me - we are _going_."

I gave her incredulous eyes, "You're crazy, it's just gonna be a bunch of drama that I don't wanna get involved with. Things were different when I invited you, my best friend didn't wanna kill me at that point in time." I grabbed my bag and got up, heading towards the door.

I felt her come up from behind me, her breath tickling my neck. I froze, "Loosen up Troy. It's at Zeke's. We'll be _grinding_." The word came from her lips like a bolt of fire, scorching at my ear. Her hand smoothly moved from the back of my neck to the blade of my shoulder. I became paralyzed by the intensity of her touch.

"Gabriella . . ." I muttered, feeling more want and heat than anger. I felt her move closer to me, her body now lined up against mine. I felt my muscles stiffen and my mind seemed to be going insane on dirty thoughts. I couldn't shake the thought of her against me for a second, of me inside of her. I felt my penis becoming firm and I swore on my life I had an erection that second. God, damn. Her tiny hands just traveled down my back. Even with clothes on, I felt a yearning. It tore me to the bone.

"You want to." She persuaded, her breath tantalizing my member.

I turned to face her, our faces just centimeters apart. Looking into her eyes, I felt the same kind of thickness that seemed to be present in the room. That smirk appeared across her light pink lips and I felt my body turn to mush. Her eyes closed for a second and she moved her hands down my chest. I couldn't push her away. I was feeling heavy at the chest as she moved her hands down further, closing the distance between us. Her hands brushed my crotch and I felt the horrifyingly strong feelings of want increase tremendously. It became harder and harder; I felt like I was going to _explode._

And then, her eyes opened and she began to laugh.

She laughed like this must have been the funniest thing in the world, like this situation was so hilarious. I then looked down and realized why she was laughing.

"I see Mr. Bolton's in his happy place."

God, I think I turned about twenty different shades of red while she just seemed even more amused by the moment. I bit my bottom lip so hard. It should have bleed.

"You need some help down there?" I could still see the laughter in her eyes as she suggested this and her lips curved to the side, making it even harder to deal with. Honestly, I needed to just get away from her.

I rolled my eyes and tried not to reveal my embarrassment as I turned around, grabbed my bags and headed towards the bathrooms.

"I'm glad I turn you on, Troy, I really am." I could see her smirk from the bathroom.

Figures I'd get the worst hard on in the world when I'm up against Gabriella. That just added to the list of problems I've had today. And I knew that she wasn't going to let it go. Definitely not . . . she'd remember it until my death day.

I tried to adjust everything and threw on my pair of jeans. Come on. I groaned loudly, trying to think of something not so sex-related. That never happened before. I never get that turned on by a girl . . . at least, where it shows. Why did it happen with Gabriella?

I threw on a t-shirt and a dark-black hoodie to go over it. I really didn't want to have to face her now. She was going to rip me to shreds. I knew that much. There was no denying it now. I wanted her . . . bad.

She was leaning on one of the lockers, a grin portrayed across her devilish lips. When she seen me, the grin widened. I frowned, knowing exactly what she was about to say, "Have everything taken care of?"

"Ha, ha, ha." I rolled my eyes at her as I shoved my jersey into my locker, slamming the door closed.

"We're going to the party. You don't have a choice, really." She added. "And I know you want to, I mean, you _really_ want to." She began to laugh again and I felt my cheeks burn as I avoided eye contact with her.

She pretty much dragged me out of that locker room and to my old, beat up truck. Yeah, I refused a few times, but she only told me that she turned me on, so I had to go. We had to dance. We had to be skin on skin. My mind said I didn't like her. But my body refused to believe that.

"You know you wanna piss Chad off." She commented, "I mean, you'll be with me, it'll piss him off. And he deserves that, because he's being a little drama queen about all of this. It's dumb." She fastened herself into the truck's passenger seat.

I sighed, realizing I was stuck with her no matter what, and despite how uncomfortable I would be feeling for the rest of the night, I'd have to go.

I got into the driver's seat and started up the ignition, pulling out of the school's parking lot. The air between Gabriella and I seemed cutting as usual. My legs were still trembling in need of some sort of pleasure. I couldn't stand anything anymore. Out of nowhere, I couldn't contain my want. I've never been this anxious in my lifetime, ever. I couldn't stand a second.

"Why were you so embarrassed?" She suddenly inquired, her eyes flickering to me. "I mean, about what happened back there. It's natural, you know."

"Yeah . . ." I mumbled, the awkwardness taking me over.

"Does that never happen?" She seemed wildly entertained.

"Not so . . . vividly." I murmured and she began to laugh again. I sighed and bit my bottom lip roughly, not making eye contact with her at all.

"What's so special about me, then?" From the corner of my eye, I could see her smirk, but she seemed more curious than anything. "It's because I'm straight-forward, isn't it? You're not used to it?"

"You're . . . incredibly straight-forward." I didn't know whether I was thinking that was negative or positive.

"I guess I can see myself as a bit intimidating." She chuckled, lightly. "I'm just glad you're not all obsessive and shit like Chad, that's just annoying." Her eyes motioned towards the window, eyeing the orange environment around us.

"I've known Chad since I was four," I told her, "I never thought he'd be such a little girl over something so simple . . . I mean, we didn't even do anything."

"He's just jealous, because you're so much hotter and tighter than he is." Gabriella gave me a sweet smile.

I didn't know how to respond to that. I could feel something lifting in my chest, like some sort of happiness, but I didn't want to believe in it. I wanted to believe it was just physical attraction that lured me towards Gabriella.

"We're like . . . brothers, it's . . . annoying." I added, obscurely.

"Yeah . . . people are like that though. I mean, I get it. When you're young, it's like, you're afraid to be alone, because life is kind of scary for a little kid. When you find someone who's more like you, you tend to lean on them. I mean, that's the smart thing to do . . . they're like your security blanket. Even when you're older and they walk out of your life, you feel like someone in your family just died. Life is a bitch . . . really." Gabriella's eyes were out the window when she said this.

I looked back to her, a bit taken by her comment. It was well, as if she actually thought deeply about it, as if she understood more than I thought she did. I was almost impressed. The meditative look on her face made my stomach well up into jolts of nerves, like a bunch of butterflies. I felt pretty stupid for feeling this way. But for that moment, she just amazed me. I think it was because I didn't expect her to be so deep about anything. She seemed all about sex and other things.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She suddenly asked, as if noticing my eyes on her.

I turned my eyes away, feeling idiotic for just looking at her so intently, "Just, you don't come across as someone who thinks so hard about things . . ."

"Yeah, I guess I'm more a speaker than a thinker. You seem like a thinker. You're always thinking . . . it's like you go into another world or something," She chuckled, looking to her feet, "I'd love to know what's on your mind half the time."

"Trust me, you don't wanna know." I muttered, remembering the incident from earlier.

"Obviously your thoughts can get pretty dirty, dirty enough to drive you into having an erection." She smirked, proudly, as if reminding me.

I rolled my eyes, again.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

Well then. I hope you all enjoyed. Sorry it wasn't really long. Leave me a review and we'll see some more action, yo. Love, Whitney.


	16. Chapter 16

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* * *

All day I think of schemes to get you next to me.  
I want you so bad that I can barely breathe.  
It's a sign of my obsession that I can't stop thinking about._

_-_JESSICA SIMPSON

* * *

_Gabriella's Mind-_

I've only been going to East High for a few weeks. Already, there was some kind of commotion going on. The sad part was the fact that it actually _involved_ me. I mean what the fuck? I didn't do anything wrong here. I was just having a good time, minding my own business. I didn't exactly jump on top of Chad Danforth and tell him that I wanted to marry him. Hell, I never even said I liked him. I've realized that guys may possibly be more dramatic than girls nowadays. He was making a big fuss because Troy and I almost kissed. And the fact that Sharpay told him was beyond me. She was just like the other half of him or something. They were little conniving assholes and I was really sick and tired of being included in this gossip halo. I mean, I had enough things to worry about.

I mean, Troy Bolton was having erections because of me and I had to worry about some stupid shit that Chad was starting. I really didn't care. I was much more involved in the whole, guileless, 'I accidentally got turned on by you' situation. I mean, how fucking cute was that? Sorry. Damn, I really was out of whack. I knew it. I've never been this amused by innocent guys before. I mean, he doesn't even have a tattoo, yet alone a piercing! He doesn't drink, smoke, or have sex . . . what the hell was wrong with the boy? I have no idea. But I still want him . . . so bad.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. We were in his um . . . 'beast' (I'd really prefer to call it that, it really doesn't qualify for a vehicle), and I couldn't stop smiling over it. I knew if I'd mention it again, he'd like attack me or something, so I didn't. But I couldn't keep my mind off of it. This meant serious business. I mean, it meant that he thought I was hot. He couldn't just think sexual thoughts about me without thinking I was the least bit attractive. He wouldn't have gotten such a rise. And oh my God, he got a rise. Seriously, were penises allowed to push out so far? I could see it through his basketball shorts. Was he not wearing underwear? Or maybe he just wore lightweight briefs. Fuck, Troy in briefs . . .

I seriously thought for that very second that I had just died and went to heaven. Really, though. Troy Bolton either had an extra large package or he just didn't wear very helpful undergarments. Whatever it was, it showed that he wasn't gay and that he wasn't completely indifferent to the opposite sex. (I'm not gonna lie, for awhile, I really thought he might have been gay.) And the fact that he got all shook up about it just made it so much funnier. I mean, I never thought I'd witness such an event. It was just hilarious. I've never seen his face turn that red and the fact that he practically ran to the bathroom made me laugh even harder. I almost cried. I'm not joking. What was up with that kid? He was such an amateur. I couldn't help myself. He was so naïve to everything, for an eighteen year old. It simply amazed me and diverted me at the same time. He was different than anyone I've ever met. I mean, he was different than Ryan and Chad, or any of those guys. There was something more about him. It wasn't just the random, 'deep' moments where he just acted like a total sweetheart, but the moments where he just bit his bottom lip and scratched the back of his head, gawkily. He acted so differently than everyone else, he was so peculiar. But at the same time, I liked it. I really liked it.

Zeke was throwing the after party at his house, and it sure as hell looked like an after party. When Troy and I drove up in his piece-of-shit-thing-he-uses-for-transportation, we just kind of stared. People were outside, staggering from side to side. It was obvious that half of the people at Zeke's were drunk off their asses already. I mean, it was only nine thirty. People acted like it was midnight.

Beer bottles were thrown out all over the lawn. Zeke's lawn was usually very clean and well-kept. Tonight, it looked like a disaster.

Couples hung onto each other tightly, in fear of passing out from the gallons of alcohol they must have consumed. The faint smells of piss, beer, Smirnoff Ice, and vomit filled our nostrils as we got out of the beast. I knew Troy was frowning already. He didn't want to do this. I pressured him into it. I wanted to get drunk though, like really bad.

Before we walked in, he pulled me to the side of the house, ignoring the drunken bastards who were snickering at us, and the little whores making comments about how 'sexy' he was. But with the moonlight reflecting on his face, articulating his eyes, I couldn't deny it - he looked dangerously beautiful.

"Look, I'm going to avoid Chad . . . and, if I'm going to take you home, that means . . . no drinking." He kept his voice low so that the ugly jackasses next to us couldn't hear as they moved their ears closer.

I almost laughed at him. He knew damn well that I never listened to people, and I was probably going to get drunk despite his little commands. Nobody could tell me what to do . . . never.

"You're fucking me, right? I think you and I both know I'm getting hammered no matter what." I didn't show any anger or resentment towards him.

"Gabriella . . ." He wore a rather painful expression on his face. "I don't wanna have to babysit you and have you puke all over my vehicle, seriously. Can't you just not tonight?"

"Dude, it's a _party_, let loose. I'm getting drunk. And you should too." I suggested, shrugging as if it wasn't a big deal at all.

He gave me a look of frustration and I knew he was getting annoyed with me. He may have looked absolutely amazing but that didn't stop me from having my good time.

I smirked, knowing I won the battle and headed into the house. I felt him at my heels. I knew he didn't trust me at all. I didn't need a fucking protector or something though. I mean, honestly. I knew why he was being this way - he was following his _daddy's_ rules, and he didn't want to get in trouble for aiding a drunken girl back to health. Yeah, I got it. I just didn't give a shit, particularly.

Music thundered throughout the house as I walked in. Zeke had a rather expensive, lengthy house, but right now, it just looked trashed. It was so crowded; I had to push through the people to make it into the kitchen. Troy was behind me, trying to keep up. A few smutty guys catcalled out my name, grinning as if they had a chance. I completely ignored them, heading towards the kitchen. I could see Troy's grimace. I just chuckled.

"There you guys are! My homies, my bitches, my posse," I rolled my eyes as we entered the kitchen and Zeke greeted both of us with a huge, outstretched, bear hug. He reeked of alcohol and I almost vomited from the intense smell of his breath. He then moved out and glanced at us, thoroughly. "You two . . . are you like, _getting_ some?" A gross smirk appeared across his face.

"You're so gone, Zeke." I chuckled.

"Troy? You been getting some titties?" He asked, his eyes shifting to Troy, who gave him a rather atypical look. Before Troy could even respond, Zeke seemed to get extremely excited and smacked a hand down on the kitchen table, "AW, shit, bro! I knew this day would come - Troy's a man now!"

Troy just turned and rubbed his forehead. "Man, you're drunk."

"Like hell, I've been getting _wasted_! Man, you should see all the hot chicks I've been grindin' on. It's some sick shit; we've got some fine ass females here!"

We were interrupted by Sharpay who came up behind Zeke, who could barely keep his balance. Sharpay had an abnormally happy smile on her face and she seemed to lack a lot of clothing. I couldn't help but notice the way that Troy's eyes seemed to glide down her body. What a little drunken slut.

"Gabriella! Thank God you're here, girly. We're just getting started with _grinding_." She grinned and began to dance against Zeke who just continued making weird, high-pitched -Michael-Jackson like howls.

They were so plastered it seemed impossible to have an actual conversation with them.

"I need a drink." I muttered, making my way out of the kitchen.

The crowds hadn't died down since I last checked. I had to push passed more people just to make my way through. I was hopeless for some booze. I needed something. I needed to clear my head, to have a good time, to just let go. I needed that carefree aura - I needed to relax my brain.

I smirked at Jason Cross, who was handing out the trays of shots. I couldn't help myself. I made my way towards him and he just smiled at me, doltish as always. He hooked me up with some Smirnoff Ice though. (My personal favorite, if you must know.) I thanked him and headed towards the center of the living-room. Everybody seemed to be breaking down. The music was catchy. Blame It by T-Pain seemed to blare through the speakers, capturing the sways of many hips. I found myself against some guy. He was kind of tall - had some balky muscles, and had dimples in his smile. He was hot.

Minutes passed. The intensity of the music flow seemed to keep everybody dancing. I could take in the aroma of sweat forming around me. My ass continued to duress against the muscular man behind me. Alcohol had hit my system and everything became a game. I couldn't concentrate on anything but the beat, the rhythm of the song. Perspiration crystallized along my body - from my forehead to my long, moving legs. They ached for rest but I was so caught up.

"Hey, can I exchange spots with you for a second?" A familiar voice asked from behind me.

I have no idea what happened. The heat in the room increased as I felt a rather different body structure gang up against me. My ass rid up on his junk and I knew very well it wasn't the muscular, dimple guy. No, this guy was _gifted_. I turned to look, slightly, and realized it was none other than Troy Bolton. And the song Just Dance by Lady Gaga came on.

My breath suddenly froze in my throat as I smelled the vague alcohol that seemed to ooze from his perfectly shaped lips. I wondered, but figured that Zeke or somebody had tricked him into drinking. I noticed the confidence that seemed to emit off of him as he kept in unison with me. I felt my pussy throbbing for him, uncontrollably. I wanted him so bad.

"Are you drunk?" I asked over the heaps of voices, barely moving my eyes to meet his.

"I don't get drunk." He responded, yelling back to me.

He was beginning to sweat, just like me. I yearned for him even more as he breathed against my earlobe; the thoughts of him unclothed propping into my head. I moaned. I could barely hold back my desire for him. He felt so damn _good_.

The music came to a halt as I turned to face him, shocked at his dancing moves. He had to of been drunk. His eyes were glossy and a sinful smile tugged across his lips. I wondered where the innocent, guileless Troy had vanished to. I almost felt more vulnerable in front of this new, self-assured Troy.

However, when I raised my hands up to his chest and began to caress them against his dampened body, his expression turned to something I was used to. His lips departed as if he couldn't breathe correctly, his body posture stiffening at my touch. I felt addicted to the contact on his skin. I was just desperate to see what was beneath, what lied beyond the gorgeous layers of his clothes. His hair looked wet, showered from sweat, and fell lazily into his eyes. The impulse beneath my legs grew stronger as I foxily fingered his member. He stirred at the faint touch - inhaling a rather sharp breath.

"Let's get away from all of these people - go upstairs for a little while," I suggested, my eyes lingering on his jeans, which seemed very tempting to pull off at the moment. He didn't answer; he just moved a thin piece of hair out of his face and looked to the ground, timid as hell. "You know you want to." I cooed, pressuring my body against his.

He looked as if he was ready to cave in, to break any second. I could feel his hard-on from just the close intimacy between us. I glanced back at him, invitingly, and then advanced towards the stairs. He followed me, hesitantly, and I could see the look of uncertainty located in his eyes.

Zeke's bedroom was the only room that had an actual bed and seemed to expel more silence than any other room. I pulled Troy into the room, my fingers pinching onto his shirt. He looked a bit nervous - his eyes shifting uncomfortably, but he didn't run away, he didn't try and break free of my grasp.

My vision seemed to be half-blurry but I could make out the bed as I shoved him onto it. He lay, rather ossified as I looked down at him. His eyes still seemed so beautiful though.

"I . . . don't think this is a good idea, Gabriella, neither of us is in the best state of minds . . ."

I could tell he was a bit out of it by the way he worded this. And his eyes seemed to be half-closed. I loved the curiosity overpowering me at the moment. I just wanted to do this so bad. Everything seemed to take me over.

Within seconds, I was on top of him. I didn't kiss him, I didn't peck him anywhere. I was tangling my hands inside of his shirt, hopelessly obsessed with the gorgeous muscles he mustered in his stomach. I could hear him breathing in and out as I moved my hands further down. I found myself trailing down the nebulous hairs of his stomach, unraveling a path that lead down to his jeans. I felt a tremble jumping inside of me and my nether region. I felt a sudden wetness, and I found myself shaking as I fingered the trail, now touching the rims of his jeans.

I could hear his breathing stop and he suddenly became tense, "Gabriella, I . . ." He was trying to stop me but I wouldn't let him. I wanted to discover this. I wanted to see what lies beneath the beautiful Troy Bolton. I wanted to make him feel good. I wanted to hear him fucking moan.

I pulled down the jeans and I felt my heart nearly popping out of my chest. I felt so much anxiety I couldn't control myself. And I almost died when I seen his gray, Calvin Klein brief boxers. They were so tight and so god damn beautiful. I just looked at them. I looked at him. He was so fit . . . from his chest muscles to his rippling abs, to the wonderfully shaped legs he owned . . . I found myself nearing passing out.

"God damn . . . you're . . . beautiful." I whispered, unable to hold it in any longer.

I hadn't even seen his package yet. I was already entirely aroused and I hadn't even seen his manhood yet! I felt like such a vulnerable little virgin. That never happened.

He was just watching me, his eyes tense and hard, and a nervousness coming from them.

"You really shouldn't . . ." He whispered, a worried voice present now.

I ignored him as I became eager to see beyond the boxers. I felt the stimulation take me over as I pulled down his boxer briefs revealing none other than Troy Bolton's erected member which I imagined could have been somewhere around six and a half inches. I just stared in marvel, unable to contain my shock. He was just . . . extraordinarily wonderful.

I could hear him breathing unsteadily, as if unsure of what my reaction was. Instead of saying anything, I grasped my hand out and stroke it, up and down. From that instant, he stopped complaining immediately. I moved it in an up and down motion, despondent to get Troy satisfaction. I could hear him breathing heavier as I continued to do this. I then went down on him, engulfing his shaft as I pursued my lips around his pride and glory. He groaned in pleasure, his lips trembling in a way that made me lose myself. I didn't want this to go all the way. I knew it'd cause a mess. But I couldn't pull myself away. I loved the look on his face. He was so fucking _attractive_.

"I can't . . ." He breathed, "Not here . . ." As if reading my mind, he reached for his boxer briefs. I watched him as he pulled them back up and began to put on his jeans. He was like a damn angel, I'm telling you. I've never seen a man that beautiful . . . naked.

"Troy . . ." I whispered my want for him not yet completed. He lifted his eyes up to me from his jeans in which he was zipping up. He was still shirtless as I moved closer to him, grabbing his hands and forcefully jerking them up my shirt. He looked at me, as if surprised by my action. I allowed him to discover my breasts, and his warm hands felt sensationally wonderful across my nipples and bare skin. I whimpered in amazement as I felt the jolt of chemistry coming from his touch.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .

* * *

_END OF CHAPTER_

I'm an ass, I know. Yell at me, why don't you? But Oh my god, Troy in those boxers... I had to. I heard Zac Efron wears them. HAHAHA. Okay, obsessions, done. :P Review if you want to see what may happen next ... and I hope you liked it. That's not the only dirty scene but you knew it was coming, Troy just kept getting excited, and um, notice they haven't kissed yet. Man, I suckkk..:) Love, Whitney.


	17. Chapter 17

_

* * *

She'll make you live her crazy life but she'll take away your pain - like a bullet to your brain._

-RICKY MARTIN

* * *

_Troy's Mind_

I was going to kill Zeke.

Everything was going pretty smooth - my urges to do things with Gabriella seemed less protrusive. I was beginning to deal with everything 'downstairs' alright again. Figures I'd get stuck drinking something that had alcohol in it. Figures it'd be mixed in so well I wouldn't even notice. And figures now I'd find myself getting the best blow job of my life from Gabriella Montez.

The sad part was that I could have resisted, had I tried hard enough. I mean, my head seemed a bit fuzzy and walking seemed a bit difficult, but overall, I was alright. I could function well. I'm not sure how I ended up pressed against her in the middle of Zeke's living-room. I have no idea how I mustered up the confidence to do such a thing. I'm usually the mellow, slow-paced guy. I never make moves on girls . . . at least, not until I know for sure they're ready for them. Gabriella - that seemed like social suicide. I mean, the girl didn't care.

Me, I'm always the jackass that ends up caring.

We were in Zeke's bedroom and my hands were up her shirt, clasping onto her small breasts that seemed to be perfect in shape. I couldn't help it. I was supposed to have my fulfillment earlier, but I didn't. And now, I was really regretting that. I couldn't stand the simple _touch_ of her. That seemed pretty bad. I have no idea why I'm so aroused by her all of a sudden.

I met her eyes and they were closed. She looked so satisfied that I almost froze up. And then her hands forcefully grabbed my own and began to yank them up her skirt. I couldn't help but become totally shocked. I mean, the idea, yeah, it was hot, but the pace of all of this . . . it was crazy.

And I felt like I was going to explode in my pants - like I was in some sort or prison. The room suddenly went up a few degrees and I could feel sweat practically scorching me to death. Weirdly vulnerable to her motions, I found my hand riding directly up her skirt. My eyes didn't close and that could have been pretty awkward, had she been looking directly at me. The bulge in my boxer briefs was uncomfortable and I found myself attempting to adjust myself while my finger found my way up her clit. She finally let go, as if understanding I could figure this out on my own and I didn't need her hand as my guide.

My breathing seemed neurotic, like I was hyperventilating or something. She probably thought I was losing myself. I kind of was, to be honest. I couldn't even control myself, yet alone my member. I felt like an animal. Seriously, I was becoming Zeke, and it was freaking me out.

I was so caught up that I found myself advancing towards her - the heat of our lips only centimeters away from each other. Her small lips let out subdued moans, the moans only turned me on more. This wasn't like me, really. And I was entirely sober now.

But there was something in the back of my mind, perching at me throughout all of this. It was the idea of how she probably didn't care - how she'd probably forget this come tomorrow - how she didn't take it seriously at all - how I was just some mindless game to her. I knew I was a play toy, practically, but for some reason, the obsession I had formed within the passed two days for her drowned my other thoughts out. It's like; I kept blocking it out - not wanting to ruin the pleasure. I mean, she was hot . . . really hot. It wasn't just physically - it was the things she did too, like that smirk, and the way she talked . . . she could shut any guys' mouth and give anyone a boner in the matter of seconds.

I was going to kiss her.

Yeah, that was my 'great, intelligent' plan. It's stupid to actually think about doing something and not just go for it, but that was me. I always had to plan something out before doing it. Otherwise, I'd just mess it up. Then again, I might just mess it up anyways.

But as I got closer and closer to sealing the space between us, I realized more and more of how she wasn't like me. I remembered how she was so bold and how she not only teased me, but she teased every other guy that I knew. I remembered how she would smirk at Chad and do the same type of things to him. I wasn't like some special guy here; I was just wasting my time. She wasn't into relationships or anything that I was into. She smoked cigarettes, she relied on alcohol to erase her worries, and she _liked_ other guys.

The rejection and the annoyance practically overtook me. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't just be some thing she could mess with. I may have let my dad walk all over me, and I may have watched Chad make me look like a loser on the basketball court, but I refused to let Gabriella make me feel stupid.

I ignored the vigorous hard-on in my pants and with all the control I had left, I moved away from Gabriella. I quickly threw on my white v-neck t-shirt and dark hoodie. I headed towards the door, practically falling over in the process. I knew if I dwelled on the idea, I'd be stuck and I wouldn't be able to say no.

I looked back to her and she looked confused. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips lazily departed. Her hair seemed to be a mess and her shirt was now vulgarly riding up to her belly button. And her skirt rid up higher than it did before, also.

It still seemed hard to breathe. I really should have just left then, but I wasn't that big of a jerk.

Our eyes just rested on each other for at least a minute.

She broke the silence, "Troy, what the fuck?" She sounded impatient.

I bit my bottom lip roughly, still standing by the door, unsure of how to respond, or what to say. I fought out the words, "I . . . should probably head out, I mean, I'm sure Zeke or someone could give you a ride."

"What the hell? Why? What's with you?" She suddenly snapped, her eyebrows furrowing at me with irritation. I couldn't explain this.

She powerlessly pushed her body up from the bed and I could tell she was beyond 'tipsy'. She was staggering from side to side. I could tell she was going to try and approach me. I was at the foot of the door when I heard her crash to the ground, a repulsive sound emitting from her voice.

I turned and found her head-down in the trashcan beside the bed, throwing up.

I became nauseated by the idea and almost wanted to throw up myself. I cringed.

I watched her as she rolled herself over from the trashcan, now sitting on the floor, her back against the bed frame, her face pale-white. Her eyes refused to meet mine and I could almost tell she was embarrassed. As her eyes trailed to the ground, I could see small tears forming in the corners of her eyes. I knew she was just being emotional from being drunk, but I couldn't help but feel some sympathy. That was in my nature and everything.

Damn, I should have just walked away five minutes ago.

I heard her break into an episode of muffled sobs and my heart seemed to move along with her crying. Yeah, I felt bad. I'm not so positive on why. It was like me to feel this way over something stupid. I had to be the good guy. I just couldn't leave her there - I couldn't abandon her and leave her to rot in her vomit. That wasn't me, that wasn't Troy Bolton.

I approached her cautiously and looked down to her, her eyes refusing to meet my own, "Are you alright?" That was a pretty stupid question. It was obvious she wasn't, but I had to keep up my usual 'horrible-at-talking' routine.

"I really fucked up tonight, didn't I, Troy?" Her eyes finally lifted from the floor, her mascara smeared and her lips quivering at me. But for some reason, her eyes still looked beautiful. And that freaked me out - a lot. "It's embarrassing, isn't it? I'm embarrassing. I'm sorry." She seemed hysterical over nothing as she averted her eyes from me again.

I bit my bottom lip, nervously, and kneeled down, our eyes at level. "Look, Gabriella, I'm just gonna take you home. You don't look so good." I didn't mean for that to come off rude or anything, I just almost became concerned about the girl. She looked pale, and sick. I could tell the alcohol was beginning to catch up to her as she tried to move to her feet.

Unsteadily, she wobbled to the side and practically collapsed. I caught her and she sighed in irritation as I helped her to her feet. I told her I didn't wanna have to babysit her tonight. But somehow, I found myself doing so.

She couldn't walk straight. I sighed, wrapping an arm around her waist to help her balance herself on me. Before we headed out of the room, she bolted for the trashcan again.

* * *

I opened the truck door for her and she stumbled into my junky trunk, with a lot of difficulty.

I headed to the other side and jumped in, starting it up, "If you feel sick, just roll down the window . . . alright?" I needed to get her back as soon as possible. I really didn't want her to throw up all over my truck, to be honest.

"I feel like shit." She muttered from beside me, her back slanted sluggishly. "I just wanted to have a good time - I wanted to not give a shit, you know. I mean, you East High kids are really dramatic . . . between Chad and Sharpay."

"Don't talk too much, it'll make it worse." I sounded like my dad, lecturing her and everything.

"_Please_. I've done this so many times before, Troy." She rolled her eyes from beside me. "I can't believe . . . what happened back there." She slurred, her eyes suddenly fascinated with the car's floor, "like . . . you and me, shit."

I bit my bottom lip, not really wanting to discuss it. I had finally gotten rid of that erection and I really didn't want to earn back any more discomfort. I didn't want to long for her anymore . . . it was like a game - like a ring of fire.

I could make out that smirk appearing across her lips from next to me. Her eyes were on me, amused, "You know, you're _really_ fucking big." Her grin widened, as if she hadn't just been throwing up minutes ago.

I felt my face flush and I kept my eyes on the road, not wanting to meet hers.

I've never really been intrepid about what I had to offer, but her comment sort of made me feel better. She always had to say those kinds of things. I'm not sure why it seemed kind of embarrassing to me. I guess it was just the shock at how honest she was about the statement.

"Troy Bolton . . . are you _blushing_?" She seemed pleased by this idea, the smile never fading from her lips as she watched me, chuckling.

"Gabriella. . ." I muttered, running a hand through my hair and letting my eyes trail out my window, not wanting to face the awkward conversation.

"You're so fucking cute, Troy. I've never met a guy who blushes. It's cute." She seemed serious about this as she glanced at me with those big brown eyes.

I felt rather uncomfortable as she moved herself closer to me. My breathing abilities seemed to decrease again and my heart began to beat ridiculously fast. I felt like I was on some roller coaster. It was _really _embarrassing.

And then, she did something I didn't expect - she lied her head down on my shoulder, her eyes closing hesitantly. My eyes flickered to her. Yeah, she was definitely drunk, that was for sure. But at the same time, the girl was so beautiful. I hated that. I hated it so much. And I hated the fact that I was practically smiling at her. God, this wasn't a 'lovey-dovey' situation. Troy, get it together.

As I focused my eyes back to the road, I couldn't avoid the fact that she was there. She was so close, and I was even closer to her minutes ago in Zeke's bedroom. It didn't ease my mind. I became a complete lunatic about the idea again. My legs kind of shook and I could barely pay attention to the road. For some reason, she seemed to manipulate my entire body into not wanting to function right.

I continued chewing on my bottom lip, hoping she wouldn't pass out on me like this. The roads were dead at this time at night. It must have been about eleven at the latest. I knew my dad was going to kill me for being out so late. But for some bizarre reason, I wasn't worried about it. I just didn't care that much right now. I just needed to make sure Gabriella was going to be alright.

When we arrived in her driveway, I gradually moved away from her, gently lifting her off of me. She stirred and her eyes opened animatedly, as if she was just resting her eyes. Her lips curved into a humongous smile as she noticed me. She began to sweep her hands through my hair, her eyes widening at the touch of it.

I looked at her strangely and as I tried to break away from her grasp, she wouldn't let me go. She kept messing with my hair, then she latched her hands onto my face, just playing with it, like she never seen anything better.

"You're _so_ beautiful." She mumbled, in her own little trance as she continued.

"Gabriella, stop that, give me your keys so we can get inside of your house." God, déjà vu, much?

"I can get in my own house; I don't need your help." She gave me a slight pout before staggering towards her house. It wasn't long before she tripped on her feet and crashed to the grass, yelping out, "Fuck!"

I sighed, lifting my head up to the sky in agitation before heading to help her.

"Look, give me your keys, alright? The faster we do this, the less trouble we'll be in." I told her, looking to her with impatience as she got up from the ground, revealing her panties as doing so. I felt myself stiffen and I groaned out loud.

"Will you fucking chillax? Geez." She grabbed a set of keys out of her purse and began to unlock her front door. Within a minute, it was unlocked.

I held her shoulders, guiding her towards the couch, and she didn't hesitate to fall onto it. She groaned as her face hit one of the pillows. "Ugh, I don't feel good."

I stood there for a second before heading into her kitchen, in search for some Aspirin and a rag I could wet down for her. I'm not sure why I was doing this. I mean, her parents were bound to come home soon, and she wouldn't remember this tomorrow. I heard her yell out in irritation from the other room.

I grabbed a few pills and a rag and headed back to the couch. Her eyes were closed, her nose scrunched up in aggravation. I couldn't say she didn't look cute when she did this. She did, and I mentally kicked myself for thinking that.

Her eyes fluttered open as I took a seat on the chair beside the couch. I handed her the rag and the pills, "It'll make you feel better."

"Aren't you gonna get in trouble for staying out too late, or something?" She asked, accepting the rag from me and punching it to her forehead.

"Yeah . . . but that was gonna happen eventually," I answered, scratching the back of my head, "we've gotta at least get you sober before your parents come home."

"Fuck my parents," She snarled, resentfully, moaning in pain, "They hate me."

"I doubt they _hate_ you. . ."

"They hate me." Her eyes met mine and I felt a sudden impulse from them. I looked away, unable to deal with the strange nervousness I got from her eyes. "You know, I haven't always been like this." I looked back to her - her eyes were far away, distant, like she was thinking about something. "I used to be just like you, actually - fucking perfect and proper and shit. . ."

"I'm _not_ perfect." My eyes met hers and she seemed taken back by the sudden aggravation that came over me from her statement.

She looked away for a second, silence filling the room. "I realized I'd never be good enough - that people in this world, you can go out of your way for them, still, they'll never be proud of you. It's never fucking _enough_." She hissed, the words coming from her mouth like fire. Her eyes moved back to me and the sadness taking her over almost killed me. "I'm just some mistake." A single tear seemed to fall from her eye and I could practically trace it as it hit the end of her neck. She bit her bottom lip and seemed to be holding back more tears.

". . . I get it." I looked elsewhere as the words slowly came out of my mouth. I felt her gaze turn to me, her eyes in a broken mess. I ran my hand through my hair, "My dad . . . that's the way it is with him." I bit my bottom lip.

"Your dad is proud of you though. He thinks you're a great kid. My parents don't even _know_ me, Troy. Most people don't know me; they just think I'm some washed up slut, some worthless girl who fucks with people because she has emotional issues. It's kind of true. . ."

"Those people don't know you though. . ." I met her eyes. "You know, I . . . don't think you're that bad. . ." I massaged the back of my neck, feeling a sudden heat come to my face as I turned away from her.

"Well, little Troy kind of gave that away, didn't he?" I could see the smirk forming across her lips. I knew she was beginning to sober up, but I couldn't help but roll my eyes. She was going to hold that against me for the rest of my life now. Her eyes didn't stray from me. She hadn't lied down - she was just sitting up on the couch, the rag to her forehead. She extended a hand, resting it on my leg, the smirk disappearing, a more serious look on her face now, "Troy, I'm just fucking with you. You take everything so seriously. . ." A small, genuine smile appeared on her lips, "You can be a real sweetheart, you know."

And something really weird happened when I looked back at her. It was pretty stupid. . . I actually felt a sudden happiness from her comment. Our eyes locked and I felt frozen again. She had control of me again, pulling me on some kind of thread. I couldn't breathe, but I found myself smiling at her.

I knew there was no denying that I was crazy about the girl. Not only physically, but emotionally - there was more to her than that. It scared me half to death to be honest. Yeah, that's right, it scared me, _petrified_ me.

And the thing was - whenever I started liking a girl, it didn't just stop there. No, it never stopped there. I was the guy that fell. I was the one who couldn't do goodbyes. I was the one who despite how many girls he's broken up with, can't erase a girl from his mind. And with Gabriella, it seemed stronger than any girl I've ever been around. So, yeah, I was scared to death.

And I mean scared to death.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

**Review** for an update.


	18. Chapter 18

_"She would change everything for happy ever after, caught in the in between a beautiful disaster._

_She just needs someone to take her home."  
_

-JON MCLAUGHLIN

_

* * *

Troy's Mind_

"You don't have to babysit me, you know." Gabriella grinned, mockingly.

I guess I was being pretty obsessive about this whole situation. I mean, she seemed perfectly sober now, she seemed like she didn't need any help. I was positive she was going to just pass out from all that alcohol but she didn't. She was back to her normal self.

She sat on a couch - one of her feet propped on its cushions, tucked underneath the other in a more Indian style of sitting. The other leg was lazily on the floor. Her face seemed paler than usual but she still looked good in her skirt and shirt. I could see her panties almost. I tried my hardest not to notice that. The curls in her hair never mangled. That was amazing. She had taken the rag off of her head. The bottoms of her eyelids hinted smears of eyeliner and mascara though. But shockingly enough, the girl still looked so hot I could barely stand it.

I sat in a chair that angled to her couch. My legs spread out casually, my ankles crossing. I leaned back in the chair, at loss for words, as usual. There were two reasons why I was lingering - one, I was afraid to encounter my dad at this time of night, and two, I actually didn't want to leave Gabriella's side. I felt like she needed comfort, despite her temperate condition. I think I just realized that behind all that arrogance she tried to portray, there was some insecurity. I figure it was her parents neglecting her, possibly her ex-boyfriend, or ex-boyfriends. I knew some guy really hurt her, some Jason guy. I have no idea why but the thought of it actually pissed me off. I didn't know the exact story but it must have been pretty bad, bad enough to make Gabriella distance herself from 'feelings' or whatever. I knew well enough that what had happened tonight in Zeke's room meant nothing to her. She probably didn't even remember now. She was out of her mind drunk and I happened to be the dumb guy who began to grind on her. I really will make a mental note to behead Zeke next time I see him, him and his drink concoctions. I really couldn't drink. That was just not a good thing for me. I let really hot girls like Gabriella take off my clothes. I guess that wasn't a bad thing to most guys. I mean, if Zeke were here, he'd be very enthusiastic. But to me, it wasn't all good - the pleasure seemed indescribable but the thing that got me was Gabriella herself. I was pretty stupid for thinking so compulsively about her, for getting all jittery when she was around. I've come to realize that it wasn't just hormones; I actually had the thought that maybe - just maybe I had a crush on her. I can't say it was normal for me either. I mean, yeah, there were many girls I've had crushes on, but this was so different. It was like every second, every freaking _second_ I longed for something. And then when there'd be those moments, where she'd be talking, and it was amazing . . . it wasn't just all smirks, winks, and flirts. With Gabriella, there was so much more and when those moments happen, it's like, I get these butterflies, and it's so embarrassing to think about, yet alone tell her. Not only do I want her physically, but it's like my _heart_ actually does something too.

I shifted my position on the chair. I didn't want to feel this way. I mean, for her, it was just a fun game, something to mess around with until she found someone better or something. I wanted to believe I stood a chance of her feeling something but that seemed like praying for a miracle. And I don't pray, despite how many times my parents have forced me into church, wearing my good shirt and slacks and _making_ me sing along to the hymns. Yeah, I'd hate to mention my perfect, conservative family also is very religious. Me, I was just on my own. I didn't really have any strong beliefs. My parents thought I abided by the bible. I just don't think I could ever believe in something I can't see. It was like what love was to me. I didn't really believe in it. I mean, I figure people really exaggerate. And sometimes, it seems people are _compelled_ into liking someone - whether it's their parents, their friends, their reputation, or maybe even themselves. I think that people can actually convince themselves they're in love. That sounds really stupid, I know. But think about it - people are obsessed with the idea of having someone to hold, someone to lean on, or even just someone to well . . . have sex with. And our society just continues to promote it with our cliché movies and our fairytale books. I've seen about fifty people in the passed month with a Twilight book. The reason why girls love that book so much is because Edward Cullen is the perfect fantasy of what they want; it's the perfect match, whatever. Girls like to think maybe one day they'll meet someone like him. That's not possible though. I mean, this is the real world, not some daydream. If I was a girl, I'd probably like the guy too. (No, I'm not saying I'm like Clay Aiken.) I'm just saying . . . man-crush, maybe? Yeah. But these things really advertise love, and I'm thinking it could be something to hold onto for hope, but you'd be holding onto nothing. It's just a crazy fantasy. Once someone's accepted the fact that not everyone's perfect and that love is a one in a million type of a thing, I think they're ready to get involved. Me, I'm not exactly waiting around, but it seems like I'll never feel something like that for someone. I've never met someone who really stands out from the crowd, someone who I can talk to, someone I'd probably do anything for just because I'm so powerless against them, someone who's my own weakness, someone who makes me happy. Gabriella did all those things. But love doesn't develop that quickly. And I just couldn't love her. The feelings would be one-sided.

"It's so cold in here." She interrupted my deep thoughts, a frown on her face.

I met her eyes, "I'll get you a blanket if you want?" What was this side of me? I mean, she did give me a great blow job, but my sudden eagerness to please her seemed almost annoying.

"There's none up here."

"Well, you shouldn't get cold, I mean, you might begin to feel lightheaded or sick again." I told her, sounding more like a father than an eighteen year old. My next gesture seemed way beyond normal beliefs. It was something a boyfriend would do, something that shouldn't be done in such a short matter of time. I began to slip out of my black and navy-blue Diesel hoodie and I noticed her eyes seemed to widen with surprise when I handed her it, now just in a t-shirt.

With a strange look on her face, she accepted it, scrutinizing it like it was life threatening, "You know, you really don't have to offer this, I mean, I could have just gone upstairs and got something."

"Yeah but you were throwing up so you shouldn't be moving a lot." I bit my bottom lip as I watched her fit her small arms through the sweatshirt. Yeah, it was big on her, and yeah, this wasn't exactly the best idea. I was really kissing ass. But she looked better in it than I could have _ever_.

"Mm, you smell good," She said, "what's your secret?" She had the sweatshirt on.

"I shower." I answered, truthfully. I didn't have specific cologne.

She seemed amused by this though and began to laugh at me, "Well I'd hope to God . . . you're being way too nice to me, you know. I'm not saying you're not acting like my dad either, because you're like a damn patrol officer." She smiled. "But you could have left me at the party."

"That'd be stupid. You looked like a ghost. You needed someone's help."

"I'm sure I could have managed."

"Sometimes it just feels better to just give in." I told her.

Her smile didn't fade, "Taking Back Sunday lyrics? Well, I'll be damned," She laughed, "now, you just gotta start quoting Lil Wayne."

I scratched the back of my head, "You know, I really don't think Little Wayne--"

"_Lil_." She corrected, cutting me off.

"That's what I said. . ."

"You said little, as in, tiny, its _lil_." She seemed fascinated by this argument.

"It means the exact same thing." I worded absentmindedly, not even really thinking about it.

"But the spelling and pronunciation is totally different." She added. "You are living in a black society, Troy, _never_ disrespect the gangster rappers."

I just stared at her, furrowing my eyebrows, "That's disrespectful?" I blinked.

"Dude, that's like calling a straight person Clay Aiken." I really love how we can't find anyone else to make fun of here.

"What's up with you guys and Clay Aiken?" I asked.

"I'm serious; gangsters take their names very seriously, Troy." She actually sounded serious. I wanted to laugh. She seemed to sigh in a more tired way and her eyes didn't break away from my own. "You know, you seriously don't half to piddle around here. . . I know you're worried about your dad freaking out on you."

"I'm not really worried about it," I told her honestly, ignoring how her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "I'm already late . . . why speed up the time it'll take for me to get lectured?"

She chuckled, "You know, it surprises me that you don't have a girlfriend, Troy. You seem so . . . committed with everything; you'd probably be the best boyfriend anyone could have."

I became speechless on her comment. I've never been necessarily a bad boyfriend to someone. I mean, I usually went the whole ten yards and everything - the teddy bears, the flowers, the candies, and the 'song dedications'. Maybe that's why girls started acting up whenever they got involved with me. Maybe I just moved to fast - maybe I went too far on those things. I always thought of myself as an excellent boyfriend but to actually think about it, there's always a reason none of them work out. Maybe I was the reason.

"Troy?" Her voice jerked me out of my thoughts - she looked almost concerned. I realized I must have been frowning, or just spacing out in my mind. "That was . . . supposed to be a compliment." Her lips were curled up in a half-smile.

"Yeah, I know, I just . . . sorry, I kind of . . . blacked out there." I scratched the back of my head. I realized that it had become a bit easier to be in Gabriella's presence, maybe a bit easier to talk to her, but still, I couldn't just voice my thoughts, despite how curious she looked. My own problems didn't concern her.

"I mean, really though, you're sweet, and with that package, damn, boy." It was weird, because usually she'd have that smirk on her face when she said those kind of things, but instead, she looked dead-serious, the smile off of her face. It's as if she was confused on why I didn't have a girlfriend, why I wasn't involved with someone.

"Most things don't work out." I admitted, reluctantly. ". . . What about you?"

She looked as if she was about to burst into laughter. "Me? Can't you tell that my love life is a curse? I have guys beating each other up and everything because of my dramatic friend spreading shit she shouldn't be spreading."

I couldn't disagree with that one. Chad and I really shouldn't have gotten into that fight. He really was acting immature about it.

"Guys like Chad and Ryan and Zeke," I began, not really thinking about what I was saying, "they have no idea what they're doing . . . they don't even know what they feel about you, they just think you're attractive, and that's really annoying." I blushed, realizing that I just disregarded the fact that she was sitting next to me practically.

She didn't take it harshly but she looked rather confused, "Why is that annoying? And I thought Chad was going to propose to me, actually." She seemed to laugh in a drier, hollow way.

"Did you want him to?" I blurted out. I literally slapped my forehead, feeling completely stupid, "God, never mind, that was a stupid question - I have no idea why I'm asking you personal questions."

"Its okay, Troy, you can ask me anything, I really don't care," She seemed entertained by my embarrassment as usual; "I hate guys who hover - Chad was like a damn puppy dog, always following me around and shit."

"Well, it's just . . . he doesn't even know you, at all." I added, grimacing.

She only smiled, thoughtfully, "Apparently not . . . but most guys are better off not knowing me. It's a problem when someone _does_ know me."

"Gabriella, are you kidding me? I feel like I know you pretty well, and that's not a problem. I mean, I believe there's more to you than just what they think. . ." God, said the poetic, sensuous thing again . . . what in the world was I trying to do? Embarrass myself? I nearly turned my head the other way, hoping she wouldn't notice how humiliated I was.

"You really think so?" She asked breathlessly from beside me. I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn't want to reply, it'd just sound even more mindless. "Do you . . . have a crush on me, Troy?"

My eyes widened as I turned to face her again, tongue-tied. How did she have any idea of . . . anything? I suddenly tensed, not knowing how to respond. I might have, but what did it matter? She didn't like me, she just wanted to do stuff with me, or whatever, have something to brag about, I guess.

"It's just, you get all weirdly nervous sometimes, I mean you're always timid and shit around me, and then sometimes you just go off into some Disney land and start saying well. . . rather sweet things, and I mean. . . it's really cute if you do, but I mean, I'm not exactly the best for anybody."

"Will you stop saying that?" I asked, almost angrily. I couldn't stand how the girl continued talking so lowly of her. I mean, she was normal; she was like any other person. She just got hurt really badly at one time or something. . .

"I don't care what's happened to you, or what's happening now, Gabriella. It's just, there's times when you start talking, and it just goes beyond what you normally say - you just. . . you become this amazing, deep, emotional girl, I mean, you're really smart, you could do anything with your life if you just could get over the past. . ."

"Don't try and act like you know me so well Troy," She suddenly snapped, her voice rotten and venomous, "you don't know shit about my past, you don't know anything about my problems, or why I act the way I do."

My eyes were on her, incredulous to her comment, "You're joking, right? Gabriella, just because some guy hurt you once doesn't mean that everybody's out to get you. Obviously he was kind of a douche if he dumped someone like you, right?" The words came out so quickly, I couldn't take them back. I almost regretted it.

Her furious eyes softened a bit when she looked back up at me. She seemed surprised by my statement and almost a bit touched by it. "Troy. . . I'm the one who broke up with him. He . . . he found another girl and I got jealous. I went back to him. . . I went back to him, desperate, like a fucking child. . . I cried, I begged. He told me no. . . ." I could see tears beginning to form in her eyes - I realized she must have never spoken of this before to anyone else. "I fucking _begged_ for him. And finally, after he told me off, told me he hated me so many times, he came back to me. And then ended up leaving me for her in the end - saying she was so much better than me, this little, trashy thirteen year old slut. . . better than me. . ."

"That's stupid, Gabriella, you can't possibly believe that, can you? You can't just be holding a grudge on yourself because of some guy who obviously was so immature that he had to go to someone younger to be satisfied . . . you can't beat yourself up over something _that_ pitiful." I told her, painfully. It bothered me so much - the way she was so upset over some jackass.

"I can't. . . I haven't liked any guys since then, I just. . . I can't, I'm so scared. I feel like if I do, I'll fall in love, then end up making the same mistake - letting them go, letting them find some fucker to compare me to, to realize she's better than me--" She was practically bawling her eyes out. I've never seen a girl cry so hard in my life, and it almost made me want to cry. God, I mean, really, the girl was a mess - she looked broken in every form possible. And I wanted to kill the guy that screwed her over so badly. For some reason, I just wanted to help her; I wanted to hold her. . . God, I was an idiot. "Because anyone's better than me, anyone is better."

"Gabriella, don't say that. . ." I pleaded - I couldn't handle her crying any longer.

"It's just what do I do? You have dreams, you have aspirations, and you have _hope_. What the fuck do I have? I have nothing. I have myself. What kind of hope is that? My life is practically over - I'm stuck here for the rest of my life. I won't be able to get a career, to get a fucking job. . . I'll be an old lady and I'll die alone and. . . ."

My throat was drying - I couldn't stand it any longer. I felt like I was going to seriously cry, like I felt so vulnerable at that moment, watching the girl cry. I found myself moving over to her, desperate to comfort her in some way, to make her alright again. I've never been in this situation and I've never felt this horrible before in my life, and I didn't know why I felt so bad about her life and her problems. Most guys would have just walked out the door and said fuck it, but I couldn't. I was absorbed in the sadness she emitted, I just wanted to make her happy, and that was so messed up. But I wasn't any better of a person than she was. I mean, I was living in a life I could never control. I was living a dream that didn't belong to me. I felt as if I'd be in a spot where I wouldn't want to be.

She had her eyes cradled in her hands, and she was trembling - her entire body shaking, her knees propped up on the couch, sobbing into her lap. I took a seat next to her, and put my arm around her cautiously. Instantly, I could feel her take notice of my presence and she leaned her head against my shoulder, crying even harder. I tried to keep my face straight but the girl was making me feel so heartbroken. "Gabriella," I said to her, as she continued crying on my shoulder, "it's really alright, try to calm down, I mean, that won't happen. . ." I didn't know what to say - I wasn't good with words, I never have been.

"I just don't know what to do, I'm just scared Troy, I know I'm messing up my life, I know I break everything I touch, and that I hurt anyone I get to know. . . I'm so sick of it, like. . . I hurt you too." Her wet eyes looked up to me, apologetically. It was more than just an apology though - it was just sincere regret.

"Gabriella, I don't care about that anymore - I mean, my dad . . . he's a dick." She seemed to chuckle lightly at my wording.

"I wish I could just. . . at least talk to my fucking parents though. . . it's like, you could if you really wanted to, your dad gets you, my parents don't even want to accept that I belong to them. . ." She whispered, now falling into my chest. I found my arms magically wrapping around her and she pulled me into a full-embrace, discharging all of her worries onto my shoulder.

"I'm sure they would, I'm positive they would," I told her quietly, "Gabriella, please stop crying. . . I hate when people cry."

"I don't cry. . . I never feel anything, I'm just . . . a horrible person. I wanna care, I wanna be needed, I wanna be loved, you don't know how bad." She told me, her voice shaking with emotion.

". . . I care about you, Gabriella, okay?" I said into her ear and I felt her release her grip from me suddenly, her eyes locking to my own, in such a mess, I could barely make out their colors.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do." I confirmed, unsure of whether it was the right thing to say but for that second in time my mind wasn't exactly on the same page as my heart. My heart kind of took over. "I know that you're hurt and that's okay, if you need to talk to someone, you can talk to me. . . I get what it's like not being able to live your dreams, Gabriella. I'm gonna be stuck in Harvard as a lawyer . . . that wasn't what I dreamt of when I was a kid. . ."

"I've been such a mess tonight . . . you've been here for me, and I have no clue why, but thanks Troy . . . you shouldn't let your dad control your dreams. If you want to do something else, you can, you have a scholarship, and you have money, fuck what your dad says." She sounded so serious, looking me in the eyes, a sudden genuineness in them.

"It's just, I had these stupid dreams to go to California, UCLA or something, play some basketball, you know? And you know, just hang-out, figure out what I'm gonna do when I get there, take a few classes. . ."

"Do it, Troy, you have the potential."

I rubbed my forehead, "But you do too, give yourself some credit, I mean, if you actually care, then let me help you out, I'll help you with a test, or something. . ."

"Troy, stop," She commanded, shaking her head. She grabbed my hand, her eyes never leaving mine - I felt something I've never felt before, something . . . well, something amazing, and something I couldn't really put in words. Any other time I would have jerked away but something tonight was changing inside of me, and I wasn't too positive on what it was or why, but something was. "I'm not that dedicated . . . that's not me, you know that. And you need to stop being so nice to me . . . you're far too open to see the good things in people . . . you're like an angel or something. I've never met someone so . . . close to being perfect." She seemed shocked at her own words.

I felt all the breaths inside of me just leave all at once, and something inside of me just burned - like I was desperate for her. I swallowed, moving close to her, my eyes shutting almost naturally. I could hear her breathing heavily, and I trailed my tongue down the top of my lip, the want and the need getting the best of me. It's all I could think about, and I couldn't stand waiting any longer.

"Gabriella, just. . ." I whispered, knowing she was holding back. It was bizarre because it was as if she was afraid to kiss me, and I couldn't understand why. She could go down on me but she couldn't kiss me. I wondered if that meant something more to her, but I still felt lost. I opened my eyes and found her just looking at me with troubled eyes. I gently placed my hand on the lower side of her face, closing my eyes. Our noses were touching and I could feel her hot breath on my face again. I became suddenly nervous and I couldn't explain why. I felt a rush of adrenaline come through me and my heart began to beat repeatedly.

And then, I felt her quivering lips meet mine, softly, and I felt so incredibly happy that it confused me more than anything. Her kiss was light but seemed to be better than any other kiss I've ever experienced. I suddenly forgot about what she might have felt, what my head was saying, and I just felt something I haven't felt in awhile, actually something I've never felt. . .

Her breathing seemed unsteady as did mine and I almost felt like the idea was just as nerve-wracking for her as it was for me. But for some reason, it eased my mind a bit more, feeling as though neither of us had full control on this. I had these stupid, pitiful butterflies and I felt like I was flying. God, Zeke would make fun of me so bad if he ever found out I felt this way. Anyone would. I felt so . . . sensitive all of a sudden, all because of some girl who was just too attractive to resist.

She broke out of the kiss and I exhaled for the first time when she looked into my eyes again. "Troy, you need to get home, really. You're going to get killed."

I sighed, realizing she was right, and for once - I was being the stubborn one. I swallowed the uncomfortable lump in my throat and ignored that my heart was still beating fast. "Right, you're . . . you're right. . ." I rubbed the back of my neck, biting my bottom lip and getting up from the couch. Her eyes followed me, and I looked down to her, unsure of what to say.

"I'll see you later, Troy." She said in this new tone I've never recognized before - meaningful maybe, tender. I couldn't explain it, I just watched her, beginning to walk backwards towards the door. I almost tripped on a shoe that was on the ground and I heard her giggling at me.

God, I needed to just get it together.

I moved my hands through my hair and headed out, closing the door behind me. I just stood there on the doorstep for like five minutes, unsure of what just happened. And then I just felt ridiculously pleased, and I smiled.

Yeah, tonight was definitely worth it.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

**N/A**: Did it make you laugh, smile, cry? Because I actually almost cried when I was writing and I felt stupid because of it. It was my favorite chapter to write though, just because Gabriella really gave herself and her mind to Troy. I hope you understand her a bit more now and get why she's so reserved about things. And Troy, getting excited, I dunno I was like imagining it and I thought it was cute. By the way, check out the cool piano solos of Right here Right now and Gotta go my own way on Youtube, they're beautiful. And I was listening to the main piano melody from Forrest Gump too. . . and some Debussy. Yes, I was in the piano mood. I don't know. :p I may have listened to some Twilight lullabies too if you get me. Oh, and this is a bit random, but I love Zac Efron. I thought everyone should know, he's awesome. Really. If you don't know anything about him go watch his interviews or something. Seriously. He'll become like someone you want to go hang out with. HAHA. Okay, Whitney, shut up. I'm done. Love, all. _**REVIEW.**_


	19. Chapter 19

* * *

_If I don't say this now, I will surely break._

-THE FRAY

* * *

_Troy's Mind_

I advanced towards the front of my house. I have no idea what time it must have been. It had to of been later than eleven, later than my curfew. I'd imagine it was at least midnight. I had been at Gabriella's house for far too long. And for some reason, I had little worries. I mean, usually I was panicky about what my dad would say, how he would punish me. But tonight, for some reason, I didn't care.

Around our house, the garden was enlivened. My mom was always a freak about mending it and everything. I guess that's why she put lights all around it. It looked breathtaking though, even I'd admit that. I was never into the whole garden scene though. And if I was, I'd probably be made fun of more than usual.

Maybe I'd get around the discipline. I tried to be quiet as I unlocked the front door and turned the doorknob. Of course, it was kind of loud, and I winced at the thought of my dad waiting up for me. He wouldn't seriously be that militant about it, would he? Then again, he _was_ that militant . . . everybody knew that.

"Where have you been?" An irritated, thick voice asked from the darkness. Damn it, I thought. He _was_ waiting.

". . . I, uh, went to a party . . . and I lost track of time. . ." That was a horrible excuse. I mean, any normal, mindless eighteen year old could make that up. He was definitely not buying that.

The lights turned on, and there he was, sitting in a chair, his feet lazily propped up on the footstool in front of him. I wanted to roll my eyes because it seemed obvious he was _trying_ to be strait-laced. Then again, it was my dad, and there was no running from that.

"Troy, where were you really?" His lips formed a straight line, and I knew there was no lying with the situation. I mean, I'm lucky he wasn't up in my face, smelling the alcohol on my breath. I'd be cursed, for sure.

"I had to take Gabriella home," I answered, hesitantly, "she needed a ride, and I was the one who brought her there. . . I didn't do anything bad; I mean . . . _we_ didn't do anything bad. . . I just wanted to make sure that she got home alright. . ." I realized instantly how desperate I was for him to believe me, for him to let me off the hook. I couldn't have been so terrified of my dad, I mean that was stupid . . . here I was, basically pleading for his approval.

His expression was unreadable. I wasn't sure how he'd react. I mean, Gabriella had said that she liked my dad. Maybe the feeling was mutual. Maybe the mention of her name made everything alright. Or maybe I was about to be grounded for the rest of my life. Either way, I still couldn't fight off the concern. . . I mean, I _was_ the perfect kid, I never did anything disobedient, and I never disobeyed. This was the first I've ever stayed out passed curfew.

"Well . . . you were only thirty minutes late," He looked away for a second, as if debating, and then he stood up, walked over to me, and slapped me on the shoulder, almost encouragingly, "and it's about time you'd find a girl who's good for you."

Through the dimness of light, I could just stare at him, confused, almost. He thought that there was something going on between me and Gabriella? I didn't even know if there was. That kiss . . . it seemed unreal, but the mere thought of my _dad_ inspiriting the feelings, well, that was just weird. I understood that he wanted me to find someone good for me, but _Gabriella_? Has he lost his mind? She was the last thing good for me, even I knew that . . . not like it changed the way I wanted her, but seriously . . . how could anyone get an innocent, guiltless impression from her?

I was about to deny it, but I knew my dad was convinced, and plus, I really didn't want to be grounded. If he liked Gabriella, then that was good, I guess, I mean, she didn't bawl him out weeks ago, or anything either . . . how did she manipulate people like this? It seemed out of this world, crazy. She seemed able to put people under spells of her own, lure them in her own way. She was like an inescapable drug, like the nicotine smokers crave for, like the oxygen we need to survive, despite how much we avoided the idea, we would still have to take her in. And once we'd take her in, we'd never get enough. We always wanted more. And my dad, she poisoned him too, she tangled him into her web, put that spell on him. . . I swear it was insane. . .

"Uh, yeah, she's . . . great, Dad. . ." I bit my bottom lip and scratched the back of my head, uncomfortably, politely smiling at my dad. In some way, I was serious, in another way; I was just trying to please him. I mean, I really did think she was great. . . but I didn't believe we sincerely had something going on. . . not saying I wouldn't mind, because more than anything, it was all I wanted. . . but, with her. . . things seemed difficult. I wasn't sure whether she'd even _want_ something serious again, especially after that one guy treated her like she was unimportant. I clenched my fists - how badly I wanted to hurt the guy . . . how could he just . . . treat her like that? I remembered the picture of her and him in her room . . . she looked so righteous, like an angel . . . like she could do no wrong. I mean, this was when she didn't have problems, when she was just your average girl . . . she was beautiful, still is . . . how could he do that to her?

"I judged her awfully wrong," My dad broke me out of my thoughts; "she actually seems like a very nice girl. Yet I can sense there's some mischief involved there. It's always good to have that though, I mean, your mother could get pretty feisty--"

"Dad, please. . ." I couldn't take that anymore. I mean, the idea was just disgusting, and he was in some trance, some faraway place, like back in the past. I didn't want to hear about my father's dirty fantasies, or what they _used_ to be. . .

"Sorry, son," He grinned, wholeheartedly, "didn't mean to give you too much information. . . I'm just saying - you just give her your all, and she'll love it, you'll love it . . . and if you have any questions about . . . well, anything. . ."

"Dad, we've had this talk. . ." I grumbled. I didn't want to have the sex talk now, really. I already knew all there was to know. I was best friends with Zeke, remember?

"Right, humph," He seemed disappointed, "well, you go get it, son." I guess any other dad would encourage their son to have sex, too. But for some reason, it was _really_ freaking me out with my dad. . . I mean, usually, he was piling work on me, telling me about how I needed to get it together in school, how I needed to practice basketball. And here he was, edging on sex like it was the greatest thing on earth. . .

I furrowed my eyebrows and turned away from my dad, heading to my room. Weird. . .

"Night, son." He called to me.

I entered my room, exhausted. The night seemed to bring fatigue on me, easily. I mean, enough happened. I couldn't seem to put away the thoughts of Gabriella on top of me in nothing but a black bra and a pair of panties. God. . .

Just thinking about it, I nearly got an erection.

I really needed to learn how to control myself, that's all.

I threw off my white t-shirt. And then it came to me. I left my hoodie at her house, or more specifically _on_ her. That meant I'd most-definitely have to talk to her again. It's not that I wasn't planning to, it's just the thought makes me nervous. I always felt like an idiot around her - I barely had any self control, I got butterflies, and plus, I could never say anything right. I was just a plain-out dumb-ass and I got all tongue-tied. God, I shouldn't be allowed to be around her, especially with all those delirious feelings of want and desperation. Not only did I want to touch her all the time, my heart practically jumped out of my chest when she just stood next to me. Seriously, what was up with that? Plus, the endless sex fantasies seemed unsettling enough. . .

I unzipped my jeans and shut off the light, crawling into my bed. I knew that sleep would be difficult, but I tried my hardest. I didn't really want to dwell on Gabriella. I mean, it was stupid that I was so obsessed with her that the kiss made me happy. I mean, it was something I wasn't used to. I felt like the gravity beneath me just kind of vanished. I felt like I was somewhere else, like some feeling above everything else. It seemed unimaginable, like maybe I was just dreaming the whole thing. I didn't have any faith in what was actually happening. . . I thought it was all just an illusion. I mean, Gabriella couldn't possibly like _me_. How was I any different than any other guy? In her eyes, I was just some jerk, just like that one Jason guy. I was barely any different. But in my mind, I felt like I was. I wasn't just some guy that was going to hurt her. I didn't wanna hurt her, ever. I mean, it killed me to watch her look so broken, so weak. I hated the fact that some guy just came and tore out her insides and then walked away. That pissed me off. She didn't deserve that. All she ever did was love the guy. I didn't know love, and I've never experienced it, but I knew it most definitely couldn't be a curse, something bad. It had to be something good, right? I mean, they wouldn't write stories or make movies on something so ill-fated.

It didn't take long for me to fall into a deep sleep.

That night, I dreamt of something out of the ordinary. Gabriella seemed to find her way into my dreams. I never had dreams. I mean, I was the one who slept heavily into blankness, so when I encountered an actual picture, I freaked out a little.

It was extremely vivid. I felt the actuality of the dream, like I was literally there. I could feel the emotions of desire and sanctity. I was with her. We were somewhere I couldn't make out. But I could feel her hot, exhilarating breath across my face as she kissed my lips. And I could feel the satisfaction growing in me as I found my way inside of her. I was desperate for breath, my face covered in a pool of sweat. And I could see her face as the energy between us seemed to tire her. But she seemed happy, nonetheless. And that made me happy. Her hair was out in its usual bundle of curls, just making her even more beautiful. I was turned on by her constant breathing and the way that moans came from her lips almost dramatically. It was more like a movie than reality. And I was growing obsessed with the image. I was so close to my triumphant moment that I seemed to block out everything else in the world. All that mattered was the amazing moment in front of me. And the room was smoldering. I couldn't even bare it for one second. I was losing all my self control. And I didn't care for the first time. It was a good release.

I woke up in a strange satisfaction. I realized my satisfaction resulted in something kind of embarrassing underneath the covers. I nearly groaned to myself. God, I wasn't usually the awkwardly anxious, horny, thirteen year old like kid, either . . . this was getting out of hand. I needed to get over my fantasies already. I mean, Gabriella wasn't _that_ hot, was she? What a stupid question. Of course, she was so hot that is was impossible to ignore the thought of having sex with her. But I've never had sex before. How was it possible to be obsessed with the idea of having sex with someone when you've never had sex before? I must have been stupid. Or maybe I was just incoherent; not seeing what was the reality of the situation. The reality was she wasn't into serious commitment, nor was she into caring about someone. And I was. Therefore, we'd never be able to be together. And she'd never want to have sex with me. God that sucked. The actual thought made my heart hurt. Man, that sounds stupid, doesn't it? I must be losing my mind. . .

"Troy, are you up?" Dang it, my mom . . . out of all times, too.

"Uh, yeah Mom, hold on a second. . ." I looked down at my latest dilemma, unsure of what to even do. I mean, I never, and I mean _never_ had wet dreams, that was just humiliating. I usually masturbated before bed or something. . .

God, I know - too much information. . .

But my mom, in all her glory, just swung open the door and walked in, "Dear, you really need to get up, you have to work today."

I was too busy worrying about the problem between my legs, "Um, Mom? Could you give me a second? I'll . . . get dressed." The real point of this was to get her out of my room as soon as possible. I didn't want to have to discuss the problem with my mom. It'd be just like my dad, trying to talk all 'sex education' with me. . .

"Well, sweetie, I was actually going to take your laundry, so if you could just hand me your laundry basket." She smiled sweetly at me, oblivious to the hindrance below me.

"Right, yeah, of course. . ." I stammered. She meant that I had to get up, right? "I'll get them, but can you let me get changed first?" I suggested, quick on my toes.

She looked at me, furrowing her thin eyebrows. "Um . . . well, okay, dear, well, then just drop the laundry basket off yourself. I'm leaving to the store in a second."

"Yeah, that's fine." I told her, secretly rejoicing in my head.

"Don't be mean to Chad, Troy. He's a nice boy." I had totally disregarded the thought that Chad worked with me. We worked on the weekends at the local Auto Repair. We worked on cars, and I'd get free parts to use on my car.

"I won't. . ." I planned on not talking to him, if anything. I knew it'd be weird, not talking to someone who I've been best friends with since I was like four. But I tried to push that out of my mind. Right now, it wasn't really the problem, anyways. I just wanted my mom to leave . . . immediately.

"Okay, well, I'll see you when you get home." And of course, she had to come over and kiss me on the cheek before she sauntered out of the room. I watched her leave, shaking my head.

"You're an idiot." I muttered to myself as I scrambled up the sheets. I changed clothes and threw on a pair of khaki shorts and a purple polo shirt. I then headed downstairs, hoping to God that no one was by the laundry room.

"Good morning, Troy." Damn it. . .

I turned my head slightly; the pile of clothes, plus the bed sheets tucked underneath them, and gave my dad my best smile, "Morning, Dad."

"Since when do you do laundry?" He seemed almost worried about this idea, as he scrutinized me from head to toe, as if maybe I was carrying a gun behind my back.

"Uh, well, I decided to be . . . helpful, I mean, Gabriella makes me want to be a better person." Oh my God, that was stupid. Not only was I supporting my dad's opinion, but I was going along with his obtuse idea about her being good for me - and my illusions of her being _with_ me, literally. This was going to get ugly.

My dad seemed ecstatic though and gave me a full-on grin, "Ah, well, that's always good son. You keep it going." He slapped me on the back, playfully, as he passed by me, the laundry covering my face.

I shook my head and mumbled unintelligent things underneath my breath as I headed into the laundry room and threw all the contents in, making sure my sheets were at the very bottom.

I then turned the thing on and let it start.

I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, saying goodbye to my dad, who just nodded at me from the den. I was almost relieved to get out of the house in a full piece.

I started up my monster of a vehicle and headed to the Auto Repair, hoping maybe Chad wouldn't show up today. I didn't really want to talk and try to work things out. I knew he'd either try to kill me, or he'd try to talk things out. I was too stressed out to deal with either. Then again, he couldn't really kill me. . . I mean, I was stronger then him . . . much stronger. I spent most of my free days in the gym benching . . . he spent them eating junk food and watching porn with Zeke. God, Zeke. . . did he have to be such a pig?

My last predicament hadn't exactly been innocent though. Maybe I'm turning to the dark, dirty side too. It seemed inevitable. Every guy has to go to it sometime. I mean, even the guys that don't want to fold in, they fold in. Some crazy, berserk, gorgeous dark-haired beauty comes along and. . . .

Dang it, there's Chad.

I groaned loudly as I slammed my fist to the steering wheel. I had no luck, whatsoever. I parked the junky truck in the parking lot and hopped out. My boss and Chad were talking together. And then, I noticed someone else approaching them. I sighed. Zeke was here, with a huge homemade pie in his hands. He was tackling it with his mere fingers, just licking them. Why did he have to be such a slob and a pig at the same time? Seriously . . . and no, I'm not gay. I know most gay guys are clean. I may be clean, but I'm not gay.

"Lover boy!" Ugh, here we go.

I headed over towards them, hanging my head in dread.

"What's up, tootsie fruity?" Zeke asked, in the process of consuming his messy pie.

"Tootsie fruity? What does that even _mean_, Zeke?" I asked, tempted to take the thing away from him and forbid him to eat anymore.

"It means you're fruity, I think, not sure, man. So what's crackalackin'? You get some titties last night?"

I rolled my eyes and looked over to Chad, who was glancing to his feet, shuffling them gawkily. "Doesn't matter, man, what are you doing here, you're not supposed to be bothering the workers."

"Aw, shit, you know me and Dell, we tight as fuck, right dawg?" Zeke grinned widely as him and my boss, Dell, did a secret, 'gangster' handshake. "He don't judge me 'cuz I'm black."

"What needs to be done today, boss?" I asked the boss, humorlessly.

"Eh, we got some old man, he wants a checkup. You think you can figure it out, it's one of those old, Chevy trucks. . ." Dell informed me, skeptically. "But he's got some mad cash on him . . . so. . ." Dell was a big man, probably about thirty-five with dark hair that was almost graying. But he was all for trucks and beer. He lived for the easygoing, humorous moments in life. He wasn't hard to work for. He got along with everybody . . . especially Zeke. And anyone that can handle Zeke, well, I give them the uttermost respect.

"Yeah, I can handle it, man." I told him, confidently.

"Danforth's gonna help you though," Dell added, skittishly. "He knows car problems . . . like the back of his head." He nodded towards Chad, who just nodded, reluctantly.

I shifted my eyes, uncomfortably. I really didn't want to have to work with Chad, as in a team, that meant we _would_ have to talk. I didn't wanna talk about anything, really. I just wanted to forget the argument, the physical violence, everything. It was immature that we fought about a girl anyways.

"Ah, fuck, I'm sure Woody and Buzz will make up eventually," Zeke smirked, "or should I say Jacob and Edward?" He smirked wider.

"Dude, stop reading Twilight, it doesn't make you cool." I told him, shaking my head.

"It _does_ make me cool. Chicks love a guy who can read Vampire love stories," He seemed arrogant about this. "I'm sayin' though. Ya'll need to make amends. It's giving me a headache. We need to all be homies again, ya dig?"

"Zeke, shut up." I shook my head, just irritated by him talking alone. Seriously, you can only take so much of this guy.

"Well, meow, Bolton, you need to take a shit once in awhile, it's like you're constipated all the time, PMS, or some shit, I dunno." Zeke complained.

"Thanks, man, I'll be sure to do that when I have the time. And I'll inform you when I can." I rolled my eyes, sarcastically, and headed towards the vehicle that I'm supposed to check up on.

I crawled underneath it, to examine the base of it.

"The tick is definitely coming from the hood . . . it's not down there." Chad enlightened me from the side of the car. He stood with his arms folded, impatiently. "The oil level needs to be checked."

I checked the dipstick that was deep into the engine, "its fine." I examined the stick; there was a level between the dipstick's two lines. Therefore, the oil was fine.

"Maybe we need to check the valves. . ." He suggested, shrugging.

"Man, we don't have the experience." I told him, getting out from underneath the car. I swallowed thickly, realizing that I was conversing with someone who stole my fame and glory at the previous basketball game. I grimaced, beginning to walk away from him to find Dell.

"I'm sorry, dude." He suddenly said from behind me, his voice sounding sincere. "I mean, about the game - that was really dumb, and really selfish. You're the team captain . . . that wasn't right for me to just steal your position."

I turned to face him, furrowing my eyebrows, "Why would you, man? I mean, for a girl? That was so immature, and you know, I didn't mean to shove you; I just got really mad. . . I mean, what you said about me being so perfect, or whatever. . ."

"Dude, I knew it would piss you off, that's why I said it. I mean, I know how much you hate your dad, and how people think you're perfect." Chad practically smiled. "I acted like a girl."

"Kind of," I supported, modestly, "I mean, man, I really didn't purposely start liking her, you know that. . ."

"T, you never like girls," Chad chuckled lowly, "I mean, seriously, you never get crushes . . . we all think you're gay sometimes because of this, but. . . I get it, I mean, you and Gabriella. . . I get that."

I blinked, puzzled, "Get that? How do you get that? There's basically nothing going on. . . I mean, yeah, she kissed me and everything, but she doesn't want anything serious. I'm just wasting my time. I'm saving you from heartbreak, taking your place, practically." I frowned.

"No, dude, don't you see it? Gabriella _likes_ you, and I mean you _need_ that, Troy. You need love; you need to feel it, just once. You deserve it." He looked at me, almost contemplatively, "You never get serious about girls. I was being selfish, getting mad at you. I've had plenty of girlfriends and I've fell in love before. . ." He looked away from me. "It's about time you did, bro."

"Man, you're crazy. Why do you think Gabriella likes _me_? I mean, I don't see that. I like her, yeah, I mean . . . probably too much, but it doesn't matter. I get serious about girls I have no chance with." I moved a hand through my hair, aggravated.

"No chance with? Dude, do you hear yourself?" Chad seemed almost outraged at my comment. "Have you seen the way that girls bow down to you at East High? I mean, you could get any girl, and you're saying that you have no chance with Gabriella. . ." He shook his head. "Don't even say that, every time I tried to get a date with her, every time Zeke flirted with her, she'd always look at you."

I met his eyes, shocked, "Are you joking me? She was sitting on your lap. . ."

"She asked you to hang out right afterward," Chad countered, "and she's always put you before all of us."

"Yeah, because I act like I don't care, when I care more than anything." I grumbled, kicking a rock, absentmindedly. "I really don't think she likes me, Chad, I think I'm literally playing with fire. And I'm still confused on how you're over all of this . . . so quickly."

"I hung out with Tay this weekend," Chad answered, thoughtfully, "I realized a lot of things. I mostly realized that despite everything, you're still my bro. I mean, we've known each others since we were kids. It's idiotic for me to start a fight over someone who belongs with you. I mean, I can see it, dude, you and Gabriella."

"How do you see it? I see it too, maybe in my dreams, but Chad, what am I supposed to do, I mean, what _do_ I do?" I sounded so desperate, it made me sick.

"I feel like I belong with Tay, you know," He avoided my question, "when we're together, it just fits, and I feel so happy, man. I mean, I get anxious when I'm away from her, and it's like, she makes me a better man. . ." He sighed, heavily. "I feel so carefree, like I could tell her anything. I know she's the one . . . it's stupid I'd ever make a big deal when my heart isn't even there, it's with Tay . . . always has been." He looked back to me. "It's the ideal couple, right? And with you and Gabriella, I can just visualize it."

"You love Taylor?" I asked, almost surprised by his confessions.

"Yeah, love, maybe, if that's the right word," He breathed sharply, "it just feels good . . . you know, it feels right, like some kind of completion, like I'm whole, the right puzzle piece. . ." He laughed, distractedly. "I sound like a moron, but man, it's true. And I hate that I acted like Gabriella was important, because she's gotta be more important to you, I mean, Zeke's been telling me that Sharpay goes on about how you and Gabriella are like fire and ice," He grinned, "how you guys fought but then made up . . . and it's obvious that you both want each other, but you're so . . . stubborn."

I scratched the back of my head, ". . . I kissed her. . . I mean, like, literally, not half-way . . . but all the way, made out."

Chad gaped at me, disbelievingly, "Really? Dude, was it good?"

I let out a sigh, a good, long sigh, "Yeah, it was amazing, probably more than amazing . . . and I mean she kind of gave me a blow job."

"_Kind of_? Man, that's great! Was that good?"

"Good? Man that was the best I've ever had. Every time I'm around her, I can barely control myself, it's ridiculous . . . and it's not like what you think, I mean, just thinking about her, I get all anxious and, I mean. . . man, I get these erections, and it's horrible, I don't know what to do. . . she caught me once. . ."

Chad was laughing, "She caught you? Dude, that's so embarrassing."

"Yeah, but I mean, basketball shorts . . . never do the job right."

"No way! That's the worst . . . especially during a game." He supported, cringing.

"You got one during a game? That had to of been rough . . . but, I get one every time I think about her, practically, when I'm next to her, or when she touches me. . . I mean, is that bad? And I get these butterflies man. . ." It was usual, Chad and I exchanging information about our love lives. I mean, we were cool, I could tell. And every problem seemed to have disappeared.

"Butterflies? Dude, you're joking, right? You are _whipped_," Chad pushed out the word like a curse, "seriously, Bolton. She has you wrapped around your finger."

Yeah, that was for sure.

She had me wrapped around her finger.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

**REVIEW. **Sorry not much happened. You can't expect constant action every chapter, now can you? But hey, Chad and Troy made up, and you've seen Troy's insight of a lot of things. . . plus his nice little dreams. I love playing with him in this, he's so innocent and naïve. It's awesome. :P . Love, Whitney.


	20. Chapter 20

* * *

"_You've got me to hold you up._

_And I will never let you down."_

-THE VERONICAS

* * *

_Gabriella's Mind-_

Everything was messed up.

Why? Because of Troy Bolton.

I have this rule, it's something I live my life by, something I don't like to break the routine of, it's called not caring, and I've done a damn good job of it until now.

I woke up on the couch, feeling rough and as if I hadn't slept in a month. I could only remember bits and pieces of what happened last night. The main parts were the feelings that seemed to be forming over the time I was talking to Troy. And that was never a good thing. Never a positive point.

He _cared_. . . why? And I cared that he cared. It was pathetic. I shouldn't care. He was a boy. A stupid, immature, careless boy. Boys shouldn't be allowed to act as if they care. But with Troy. . . it wasn't an act. No, it was real. It was more than real. It was almost passionately real. He was concerned about me - the hopeless, impetuous girl who says way too much when she's tipsy. See, I have mood changes when I'm drunk - I go from stupid and crazy to emotional and pitiful.

He acted as if I actually had something to live for - something worth it, some good reason to wake up in the morning. But that wasn't true at all. I never had any value, I never had anything that could make my days less miserable. No, I had love once but it slipped away because neither of us were mature enough to handle it. And the way the boy broke me seemed to leave me in a state where I have become stuck in this rut, in this hole, and I just can't seem to climb out. I was still waiting for my prince in shining armor to come and help me out. I was still waiting for my fairytale ending, my happily ever after. But that'd never come. My dreams were crushed, my ambition, lost in the wind somewhere, and now I was just stuck in a giant eclipse, no one to guide me, no one who cared, and then suddenly, Troy was holding me in his arms, letting me cry on his chest.

And I cried.

I cried like a baby, like a newborn child - as if I was lost and confused, unsure of where I'm at. But he didn't judge me. He didn't seem the slightest aggravated, or appalled. He just sat there, holding me, telling me that he was here for me, that he understood my pain. But how could he understand my pain? I was so neurotic, so trivial about everything. I made everything seem so dramatic when it wasn't. I was just a girl who's kept her feelings inside for far too long and I needed someone to talk to. And Troy, he opened his arms - offered me a shelter, and of course, I accepted it. It was magical. _He_ was magical. Like some sort of angel, he made everything better, put back a few of the broken pieces. The agony seemed to disappear for a little while. All that mattered was his words. What he was saying.

I told him I wanted to be needed, I wanted to be loved. Of course I did. I was lonely, I was set apart from the world it seemed. I mean, who wants to sit around and sleep with people they don't know for the rest of their lives? Everybody wants someone to love them. It wasn't that senseless, me saying something like that. But as I clung onto his chest and he whispered into my ear that he cared, I realized something, something that shouldn't _ever_ cross my mind, but it did.

I was falling for Troy Bolton.

Why? Damn it, I don't even know. If I could explain the fucked up situation, I really would. Any normal person would tell you, it's pretty cliché that I'd fall for someone like him. He wasn't hard to like. He was actually very easy to like. Everybody liked him. He was the big-shot at school, the most gorgeous guy in school, and he wasn't a little cocky bitch about everything either. He had some sort of heart in him. He aided to me when he knew I could have taken care of myself. Or some other person could have helped me. Instead, he offered his own support. He was the good guy, the nice guy that finished last. It made sense now. He was too nice. . . too sweet. When did those guys ever get any credit? Never. When did they ever find their Cinderella's? Never. And I definitely wasn't his Cinderella.

But I wanted to be.

Wow. It was all so hazy and bizarre now - feelings, emotions, my _heart_, the beat was erratic, and nothing seemed to matter anymore. I mean nothing. I just lied on that couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering what was going on, wondering what was wrong with me, what lead me to actually give a shit about someone. Why did I open my door now, out of all times? And why him? Because he's sweet, yet naïve? Because he doesn't have the intentions of just getting in my pants? Because he's willing to listen to me and console me through the bull shit that doesn't matter?

_Yes._

The sunlight was shining in through the windows. I knew my parents had already gotten up and headed to work. They obviously seen nothing strange about me sleeping on the couch. Or they just didn't care to notice. Whatever. It didn't really matter to me anyways. I just couldn't stop thinking about things that were happening to me - images that were popping into my mind. Troy's ocean-blue eyes, and the way they seemed to be the only thing I could see in the dimness of the living-room last night. And then it all hit me when I looked down. I was still wearing his sweatshirt. It seemed inevitable - the smell of him just crept up on me. And the addiction of it seemed _irresistible_.

I commanded myself to stop. I couldn't just sit here, obsessing over a pretty boy who probably just felt sympathy for me. Right. Sympathy. Yeah, I didn't even believe what I was trying to convince myself. I was positive almost ninety-nine percent that he cared about me in some irrational way. And the kiss. The kiss just brought me to my knees. It was a weakness I haven't felt in a long time. A weakness that pissed me off and I tried to set it aside, forget it happened, but when I watched Troy head towards the door, I could see the smile playing across his lips, as if the kiss had affected him in some positive way. He was pleased. Why the hell did that make me so happy?

I forced my eyes open and pulled the covers off of me, getting up from the couch. I couldn't just sit around and dwell on it. That was just dumb. I decided to hop into the shower. I then got out and let my hair dry, forming natural dark curls from some mousse. I then applied some makeup and threw on a pair of jean shorts and a halter top. I grabbed my headphones and IPod and headed outside, desperate to just feel a nice breeze.

The humidity was horrible, but I ignored it as I took a seat on the porch, putting my headphones in and raising the music until I couldn't hear anything around me.

_I feel so untouched and I want you so much and I just can't resist you._

The Veronicas sure had a nice way of putting things.

My eyes closed as the sun beat down on my face. Maybe I could get a decent tan or something, I hoped. But as I opened my eyes again, I realized that Troy's big old truck had just pulled into the driveway. I assumed he had just gotten off of work.

He didn't realize I was outside. I took off my headphones for a second and watched him as he slammed the door shut. A frown was present on his perfect face as he whipped his hair out of his eyes. That was fucking hot. And he was wearing his usual straight legged jeans and a plaid shirt that rolled up to his elbows. If anyone could pull off plaid well, it was Troy Bolton.

His face was drenched in sweat so I figured he must have been in the heat all day. He still looked really hot though. I couldn't help but just watch the guy, I mean, he was fucking beautiful, strutting his shit without even knowing how beautiful he really was. He didn't even realize I was behind him, admiring his every movement.

"Well, good afternoon," My snide comment made him jump instantly as he turned around to face me, shock written all over his face.

"Gabriella," He breathed almost too quiet for me to hear. He seemed to be searching for the right words, as usual, tongue-tied.

"I'm doing fine if you were wondering - no hangover," I smirked, as if I had accomplished something great, "I see you're still alive, so Jack didn't murder you or anything. . ."

He sighed, heavily, "Yeah. . . guess not," He bit his bottom lip as if contemplating something, "I think he really does like you. . . I mentioned you and he instantly didn't mind that I was out late."

I chuckled, "Told you we had a bond, me and Jack are tight," I tried to display the relationship with my two fingers. "Look. . ." I got up from the porch where I was sitting and moved closer to him as he stood in front of his front door. "Thanks for. . . helping me out last night."

"It wasn't a big deal," Troy responded casually, not meeting my eyes, "you needed someone and I told you I'd listen. . . I mean, I'm not a bad guy," His eyes rose up and found mine - my heart did a really weird thing and skipped a beat. I had to clench it out of fear when it happened. I wasn't used to that. "And I hope that kiss. . . wasn't. . . too much or anything. . ." He seemed to turn his head as if he didn't want to face the conversation.

I just laughed, "It was okay. . . I just. . . I'm not much of an emotional person, more physical, I mean, I try to avoid feelings, they kind of make everything difficult." I made a painful face as I advanced even closer towards him. We were now just a few inches away from each other.

He wasn't looking at me, but rubbed the back of his neck, almost nervously, "Gabriella. . . its really stupid, but I think I wanna be with you." The words came out of his mouth slightly jumbled and clumsy but the way he avoided my eyes seemed to make him all the more adorable.

But something inside of me was aching all at the same time. "Troy, some damage can never be repaired." I mumbled, underneath my breath.

"Well, I'd like to try," And then he did something unexpected - his eyes were on me, like two oceans, striking lightning bolts into my heart. I couldn't resist how attractive he was, that was impossible. And the closeness between us seemed to keep me on my toes. It was all too intense. The words. . . they had meaning. He really wanted to. He wanted to fix me.

Was that possible?

"I was. . . gonna ask you on a date," He blurted out, swallowing thickly as he glanced away, "I know, how stupid, I mean. . . out of all the girls, I seem to be going crazy over the one who'd never think of me like that."

"Troy, you think I don't like you?" I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "How the fuck could anyone not like you?"

He ran his hands through his hair, "Please, Gabriella," His voice was pleading, like velvet to me, "I'm not some jerk like that one guy. . . I wouldn't let you down like that."

"You don't like to let anyone down," I breathed, "you can't even let your father down ever. . ." The wind glided through my hair, tossing it around. "If anyone's going to let anyone down, it will be me."

"You don't have to," He suddenly said in a placid tone, "I mean. . . it's just a try, I just wanna help, it's okay if it doesn't happen. . ." He shuffled his feet, uncomfortably.

"Why would you want to bother with something so. . . impossible?" I asked, breathless to his suggestion.

His eyes were boring into the pavement, heavy with thought, "I'm not sure, Gabriella, I just. . . I wanna be with you," He bit his bottom lip as if he was positive this was what he felt. And my heart seemed to beat for him as he scratched the back of his head, "I feel like it's worth a shot,"

"And what if it's not?" I folded my arms, not really understanding him. He really wanted to break down a wall that stood far too tall. And even if he was slowly beginning to destroy it, the mass of it would just come crashing down on him in the end. Somehow, I would fuck him over, there was no doubt about that.

"I still wanna be with you," The frustration that took over his face seemed evident to me as he met my eyes, penetrating ocean-blues that I could hardly stare back at. They were far too intense. He wanted to be with me, no matter what I felt, no matter if I didn't even _feel_ anything for him. How was that logical? That would be just using him, sleeping with him and then finding someone new. Playing him. Toying with him. Something I'm not sure I could even do.

"I'm not that great of a girl," I told him sincerely.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," He mumbled underneath his breath. His eyes shifted from his front door back to my face. He looked as if he wanted to ask something, but the idea nearly frightened him.

"I just wish everybody else could see things at the angle that you do, Troy," I chuckled bitterly, "you're too sweet on me."

He took in a breath, uneasily, his eyes were still filled with some sort of pain, like he was desperate to say something, but I wasn't quite sure on what. And then, after a few seconds, he stepped back and faced his front door, his back to me, "If you're not. . . doing something, you could come in for a little bit,"

I was amazed he was capable of asking such a inveigling question. "Sure, why not?"

"I have to take a shower though, I've been working on cars all day. . ." He opened the front door, letting me walk in first as he held the door open. At least he was polite. Jack must have taught him that one. There seemed to be some awkwardness still present with him though. He practically fell over his feet as he walked towards the bathroom, his eyes never leaving mine. ". . . You. . . um, can pick out a movie or something, there's a bunch of them in the living-room."

"Okay." I watched him as he disappeared into the bathroom and I couldn't help but imagine him, in the full nude, looking sexy as fuck. Ugh. Life's a bitch when you know someone as attractive as Troy Bolton.

And the picture of him with those Calvin Klein's on never seemed to fade from my mind either. I don't think a man should be allowed to wear such wonderful underwear. Seriously. Troy should be modeling for underwear. That's how great he looked in them.

I took a seat on the couch in the living-room. The entire house was dead-silent and I just noticed how awfully big it was compared to my own. It looked identical in size from the outside but on the inside, it was just _ridiculous_. The ceilings were definitely higher and the furniture well, it looked a bit pricey, I'll tell you that much.

I heard the shower come on from the bathroom and I smirked to myself. I had no idea where the DVD's were at and for some reason, I really wanted to find out. He mentioned I could look through them. I casually picked myself up from the couch and headed over to the bathroom. I obnoxiously knocked on the door and received nothing but silence in return.

"Troy," I called, eager for a response.

I got nothing. I then remembered, this was his happy moment, wasn't it? He enjoyed masturbating in the shower. For some reason, this entertained me wildly, and I suddenly had the urge to nearly break down the door and join him. Yikes. I need to keep my sexual desires to myself. I was biting my lip erratically and trying to play cool as I envisioned him having the time of his life in the shower.

_Ugh._

"Troy. . ." I called again, hoping to give myself an excuse to just open the door and find him in the shower, doing God knows what with little Troy.

I grinned. Okay, no response, time to freak him out.

I turned the doorknob and was greeted with a bunch of steam. I imagined that was from the shower's hot water. It was humorous to me that Troy didn't lock the door. He obviously never thought I was crazy enough to actually barge in on him while he was showering.

"Troy," My voice echoed in the bathroom and I could see his shadow on the shower curtain.

He merely stopped washing what I presumed was his hair and stuck his head out from the curtain. I couldn't help but almost shit myself over amusement from the look that was plastered on his face. His eyes were wide and he seemed crucially embarrassed over the idea that I was inside of his bathroom.

"Gabriella! W-what are you doing," He heaved, his hair drenched in water and what I think was shampoo, "you can't just. . .walk in here!" He was freaked out, that was for sure, and I was trying to stop myself from laughing.

"I couldn't find the DVD's," I answered innocently, advancing closer towards the shower. He only reacted more and seemed to become even more uncomfortable. "Dude, chill, it's not like I haven't seen anything before. Unless you're masturbating, then you should just admit it." I grinned, as if I had just accomplished something wonderful.

He seemed to blush a little and then roll his eyes, "You have to get out of here, what if one of my parents came home and found out that we're both in the bathroom? People don't do this,"

"Oh, _people_ do this all the time," I informed him, "don't be so freaked out, Troy." I took a grip of his shower curtain and attempted to pull it away from his body. He only gave me a look that altogether proved he thought I was insane. He refused to give up the curtain that covered his beautiful body. "Do you need some help?" I gave him a rather seductive glance and then narrowed my eyes.

I could tell he wasn't taking this well - he looked like he was speechless again, unable to find the right words, and I'm positive he wasn't taking healthy breaths. I almost felt sorry for him. Pretty soon he'd pass out from not taking in enough oxygen. I knew he was hot, but the way he acted when I was around, well, it was almost noxious.

I flipped my long hair so it was out of my face and then began to lift my shirt up, as if to take it off.

Troy's bug eyes seemed to expand even more, "What are you _doing_," the last word came out like a choked up word that an eleven year old would say while experiencing puberty. I think his voice went about twenty octaves higher.

I was now only in a bra, "I'm kind of dirty," I confessed, batting my eyelashes at him as I turned to face him, "I'm sure you wouldn't mind it if I just joined you."

He blinked, as if he didn't even believe me.

"I can't seem to get my bra to come off though," I feebly pushed at my bra, not trying too hard to get it off. I backed up so I was close to Troy and I could practically feel the hot water from the shower hitting my back. "Could you?"

"I don't know if this is a good. . ."

"Troy, don't be a pussy." I rolled my eyes as I let my back face him, sick and tired of him being such a little bitch about everything.

As he was breathing down my neck, exhilarated, overwhelmed breaths, he attempted to undo my bra. He wasn't doing very well - I could feel his hands shaking in some kind of anxiety, as if he could barely handle the idea of me in a bra, standing there, waiting for him to undo it. He was like. . . hyperventilating.

"Troy?"

". . .Um. . .yeah?" He asked, after a moment of silence. His hands continued to mess with the bra straps but never really figured it out.

"Your hands are shaking."

"Sorry. . ." He seemed actually sincere about being sorry. Almost as if he was humiliated that he was so eager about the situation.

I grabbed his hands and pushed them off of my back, undoing the bra by myself. I then began to pull at my shorts, though I could feel Troy's stare at my breasts, which were now in full view. He seemed completely shocked that I would do such a thing. But I didn't care.

I pulled down my panties and revealed my entire body - naked. Butt-naked. Yeah. I was standing there, looking at Troy Bolton, who was hiding behind a curtain, and I was nude. Completely. And he was eyeballing me like there was nothing better in the world to look at. I'm shocked the kid didn't start drooling. No joke.

I placed a foot in the shower and he seemed to move over accordingly, still flustered. He was underneath the shower head - the water pouring down onto his face, making him look even more attractive then before. The steam made it impossible to see much but I found myself clutching onto his shoulders and pushing him into the hard wall. He moaned something and then I pressed my glossed lips to his wet one's - my tongue exploring the environment of his mouth again. I forced his hands on me. I needed them there, like some sort of essential.

My hair became drenched as I was now underneath the shower curtain too. I began to moan the idea of him being this wet, his body clamped up against my own. But the want was endless and I couldn't resist the idea of him touching me all over again. Why was he so damn beautiful? Why?

My hands were all up in his hair and he was breathing neurotically, the room sweltering from his constant heaving. I panted for him and I only him. It seemed like fate that I'd do something like this. And now, I just couldn't stop. I had him pinned against the wall, the water spraying down on us like a rainstorm, the heat becoming even more overwhelming by the second. I could feel his member pressed against me and _nothing_ seemed more irresistible.

"Troy," My lips were so close to his nose and I know he could feel me breathing on him, "I want you." The words were magical, like I had meant to say them all along. He seemed to take this at a heavy note and nearly fell to the ground. He looked as if he was about to faint but I'm sure the intake of the hot water made things even more difficult.

"But I want you more." The words were filled with something I've never heard Troy Bolton display before - they were filled with desire and some kind of eagerness. It was obvious to me that I wasn't the only one who longed to be as close to him as humanly possible. Or should I say, have him, inside of me.

"I want you _now_," My lips trembled, the fire inside of me burning so strong I couldn't control myself anymore. I was against him, about to wrap my legs around his waist and force him to fuck me right then and there. And he wanted to. As desperately as I did. His hands held onto my hair protectively as he clutched his lips onto mine. Oh, God, it was ceaseless, the want, the need, the _addiction_.

I trailed kisses down his neck, my hands caressing the wonders of his chest. I was sliding down to his nether region, greeting it with my touch and I heard him moan, as if telling me it was time. And then I pursed my lips to the shaft, and I could hear him panting, wanting more and more. And I wanted more. More of him.

"Gabriella," He murmured, despairingly.

I slid back up to meet him, moving my hands through his hair as he kissed me, rough, as if he was hungry for more.

"_Now_." He whispered, as if he was used to this - as if sex was something he did all the time. As if this was normal for him.

And yet I was the one who was worried about ruining this for him. His first time. With me.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER


	21. Chapter 21

_

* * *

And I will try to fix you._

-COLDPLAY

* * *

_Troy's Mind-_

This was it. This was that moment - that moment of pride and glory for me.

Time seemed to still, everything was just stopped - everything but the moment that lay before me. Gabriella's eyes looked up to me, questioningly, longingly. I had to fight back my urges to just, well, take it from there.

Her eyes were so big, so big and brown. Her entire face was soaked and it only made her look that much more attractive. She was so beautiful, like a goddess right in front of me, unclothed. I couldn't snap out of this perfect daydream I was having. Everything seemed so idealistic, like something I would have seen in my wildest dreams. I kept wondering if maybe this all _was_ a dream.

The steam was impossible to ignore, it just spread like fire between us. I could hardly make out her face. But I felt like my entire body hungered for her. Was that normal? I really doubt it. It didn't matter though. Nothing mattered. I just wanted her. Needed her. Yearned for her.

I had no control over what I was doing.

I forced my wet lips against her own. I couldn't fight my desire anymore. It was just eating me alive, a fire burning through my soul, desperate to get out. It was unexplainable, something you couldn't decode on paper. Her hands fought through my hair, tangling it around her fingers. My kiss became rough. I couldn't wait. Maybe I didn't know what sex was like. But I sure as hell wanted to.

"_Now._" I whispered, like I was encouraged by Satan himself.

Our breathing was heavy and the steam was constant. It was all so surreal, overwhelming even. I almost felt dizzy because of the hot water that continued to pour on us. My eyes closed, waiting for her response.

A silence fell between us that I didn't understand. The disappointment I felt was unlike anything I've ever experienced. I opened my eyes, confused about everything. Isn't this what she wanted, what she was involved with? Gabriella was like a damn sex kitten, tantalizing and so manipulative. Yet, she wouldn't have sex with me?

Her eyes burned right through my skull as she looked at me. There was some mixture of sadness, maybe even passion in them. The look she gave me paralyzed me for those few seconds. And then she bit her bottom lip and turned around, a grimace on her face, as if she was losing a game she was destined to win.

The letdown hit me the greatest when I realized I had been rejected. I wasn't really used to rejection, to be honest. Everybody knew that I could get any girl that I ever dreamed of. But for some unknown reason, Gabriella was the one getting away.

My insecurities were beginning to get the best of me. I felt so submissive, just standing there, waiting, _hoping_ she would change her mind. I wasn't so bad, was I? I didn't even know what to say - words were impossible right now. It was as if she had cut my heart out of my chest. Every speck of confidence I have ever had was suddenly destroyed. _I_ suddenly felt like I had been destroyed.

The shower never stopped and the moment between us never faded.

The silence became uncomfortable within the seconds and I so badly wanted to find the right words to say, or the right question to ask. Nothing came to me.

"I should leave," Gabriella's voice was hushed as she bit down on her bottom lip.

I watched her, aspiring to just hold her back. My feet wouldn't move as she slipped out of the shower and began to put her clothes back on.

_Say something._

What was left to say? She simply didn't want me. I didn't have that experience that she did, I wasn't that crafted when it came to sex. She knew that it would have been my first time. She _knew_ that this was important to me. And it wasn't half as important to her. It wasn't fair. But to me, that didn't matter. I just wanted her - all of her.

Why couldn't I react to her, abandoning me like that? Why couldn't I reach out and grab her, demanding she give an explanation? I needed some sort of definition. I needed to know that all of this wasn't just some mindless game. But it was. It was all pointless, something to distract her for a little while. She never had feelings for me, she just felt physical attraction towards me. And I was naïve enough to begin falling for her, knowing that I would end up like this in the end.

"Gabriella. . ." My voice only came back when she had closed the bathroom door and was on her way out of my house. God, I was an idiot. I couldn't even fight for her, persuade her to stay. Then again, I knew that she didn't want to stay. She wasn't me. This wasn't mutual. This was her entertainment.

I finally shut off the shower and got out, getting back into my jeans and shirt. I glanced at myself in the mirror, scrutinizing my appearance. Girls usually put me on a pedestal. With girls at school, I was the center of attention. I was the most sought out guy in East High. Yet I couldn't even win Gabriella's heart. Nothing else really mattered to me - the basketball team, my dad's approval. . . I really just wanted Gabriella. All of Gabriella. I wanted her selfishly. But I knew that day would never come. She didn't do relationships.

* * *

On Monday, school seemed like a living hell. I called Gabriella a total of five times within the weekend and as predicted, I received nothing in response. She was avoiding me. I got the fact that she didn't want me like that, sexually, or whatever, that it was all too weird for her since I had no experience. I understood I wasn't some tattooed, pieced guy who wanted to use her for her goodies. But the least she could do was acknowledge me in class. Instead she distanced herself from Zeke, Chad and I, sitting halfway across the classroom.

I tried to make eye-contact with her but she wouldn't even give me that. Not once. She acted as if I just didn't exist, as if she had never met me. I could tell that Zeke and Chad were a bit confused on why she wasn't talking to them either. But neither of them were awake enough to question the situation.

After the bell rang, I forced myself to talk to her. I had to. I felt like everything inside of me was breaking to pieces because of some girl. It was moronic and I knew that. I never felt this strongly about anyone in my entire life. So many girls pined over me in the passed few years. I rejected every single one of them, not even giving them the time of the day. And then Gabriella comes into my life and gives me that mischievous smirk. . . suddenly I'm head over heels.

I was what they called the "golden boy", the one that no one could get through to. Nobody stood a chance with me because my expectations were too high, because I was just too good, I was too perfect, or whatever. Maybe I was too perfect, too caught up in my fairytale-like life, where I did everything my parents told me to, where I got straight A's and never came home passed curfew. Gabriella knew she wasn't getting anywhere in the near future, that she wouldn't even go to college because her GPA wasn't high enough. I was supposed to be falling for the girl with an identical 4.0 GPA, like mine. I was supposed to be falling for the girl who was seemingly perfect like me, who had her entire life together. Instead, I go for the girl who's life seemed to be falling apart. And I couldn't get my head around her.

I was finished arguing with my heart though. I wasn't better than anyone, and I should have never made people think that. Gabriella opened my mind to many different things. Maybe I was kind of changing. I was beginning to accept her no matter what she was, no matter how many guys she slept with in the past, or how many cigarettes she's went through in the passed week. I didn't have any expectations anymore of anyone. And I didn't want to live in a life where I had to become what my father wanted of me. Instead, I wanted to live in a life where I became what _I_ wanted of me. I would go for the things that I wanted. And right now, Gabriella was on top of my list.

"Gabriella, you can't just ignore me," I mumbled, situating myself so I was standing next to her as she spun her locker combination.

She didn't respond.

"I know that I don't have the experience you have, but what does that even have to do with anything? I care about you, I wanted it to be with you," I told her sincerely, as she opened her locker and began stacking books onto each other, "you know I actually care about you. This isn't just some game to me."

I heard her sigh, submissively. "Troy. . . you don't understand. This isn't about the experience." She looked up, meeting my eyes. I was actually taken back that she even said anything. She seemed sympathetic for some reason. "I don't do feelings."

I knew that. But hearing it again seemed to shatter my hope all over again. "I know. But I thought you were giving me a chance."

She laughed bitterly. "A chance? Troy, you are the definition of perfect. You don't deserve me. Go find someone who's good for you." And then she turned around, as if planning on walking away.

"So that's it? You're just going to give up?" I asked, angrily, blocking her path.

Our eyes met momentarily.

"Look, I thought I could do this but I can't. It's just. . . usually I can deal with guys, usually I can put a wall up or something. . . where I don't care about them," She swallowed, as if whatever she was about to say was painful, "with you, it's different. You remind me so much of him, in just the way you look at me."

"Gabriella, I'm not him - I'm not gonna hurt you the way that he did."

"No matter what, someone's going to get hurt. Don't you realize that?" Her words were filled with rage.

"You're just afraid that it might actually _work_," I looked deep into her eyes, "you're afraid of falling in love with me." She took in the words as if they were a simple death wish. As it sunk in, she began walking away, agony hinted in her expression. "You have to stop running away sometime," I demanded.

"Stop flattering yourself, _love_ is a fucking joke. And obviously so are you if you thought we would ever get that far. You were different. I was kind of interested. Sorry I even bothered." She growled, not even looking back at me.

I tried my hardest not to let the words get to me. She was just a girl, after all. A girl who was petrified of caring about someone ever again. That had of been it. She was running away. She had started caring and it scared the hell out of her. It wasn't just some mind-boggling game of hot and cold. It couldn't of been. She actually opened up to me, she actually told me things she hadn't told anyone else.

I ran my hands through my hair, aggravated. Why couldn't things just be easy for once in my life? Why did I have to get myself involved, put my heart out there? Why did I have to be the good guy who reached out and tried to fix her? Obviously she wasn't fixable, obviously she was _never_ going to get over that asshole.

I headed towards my art class, trying to disregard the idea that she was in that class with me. She probably would avoid me, sit at a different table or something. God, this was stupid. I felt so used, so pathetic, as if I meant absolutely nothing to her all along. And I shouldn't feel this way. I knew why she was acting like this - why she was shutting me out. I just couldn't accept it without feeling rejection, without feeling the damn heartbreak.

I sat down next to Zeke who seemed more lively than he had been previously. He was working on his project from last week, in deep concentration. It wasn't long before Sharpay approached our table, surprisingly all by herself.

Zeke's eyes lit up in recognition and I couldn't help but notice the way she seemed to almost smile when she seen him. Obviously things change a lot when you're under the influence. I still wondered what happened between them last weekend at Zeke's party. The thought put me back into the depression I was in earlier, back to the pity I was feeling because of some dark-haired goddess who stole my heart and then smashed it onto the ground.

Zeke and Sharpay became engaged in conversation while I tried to hold myself together. Attempting to distract myself from thoughts of a certain girl, I began working at my art project for the week. It wasn't long before the distraction came to an end. My eyes snapped up from my project as soon as she walked through the door. The sad part was I wasn't the only guy who was completely wrapped up in how gorgeous she was - about ten other guys' eyes glanced up all in unison.

She didn't look at anyone as she made her way to the other side of the room, completely disdaining Sharpay, who called out her name in hopes to have her sit at our table. Gabriella acted as if Sharpay wasn't there, as if we were all completely invisible to her. Something told me that maybe she wasn't as proud as she acted, like maybe there was a part of her that wished she could muster up the gull to see what could become of the two of us. I wasn't oblivious. It wasn't all just some ridiculous daydream, what ever went on between us. I knew damn well there was a part of her that actually cared. She was just too stubborn to admit it. I was the girl here, being all sensitive and always opening up. I couldn't help myself though. I was so lovesick for some reason. Zeke even knew it. I was "whipped", as they would say it. But I didn't care. I never cared about someone like this.

"What happened, bro?" Zeke interrupted my bottomless thoughts as he gave me a concerned look from across the table. Sharpay had the same kind of look on her face, but she was looking over at Gabriella instead.

"Nothing," I lied through my teeth as I tried to concentrate on the project instead of my troubling thoughts.

"Bull shit," Zeke knew when I was lying, "something happened between you and Baby G. Man, don't be a little bitch. Tell me what's going on."

"Just leave it alone Zeke, I don't wanna talk about it." I snarled, coldly. Usually I told Zeke and Chad about my problems, but I didn't know how to even explain this. I just felt so unwanted for some reason. Gabriella made me feel worthless.

"Like hell I'm gonna leave it alone, Bolton." Zeke countered.

"She doesn't do feelings, alright? She wouldn't sleep with me." I muttered, feeling the knives in my chest at the reminder.

Now Sharpay was looking at me too. "She said she wanted to."

I looked up at her, a bit baffled by her comment. "Huh?"

"Yeah, I thought she had her eye on him," Zeke's eyes rolled over to Sharpay, inquisitively.

"I don't know why she wouldn't," Sharpay told me, her voice serious for once, "she always talked about how it would be so great. I swear she's into you. When she was mad at you, she couldn't get over it. Its like. . . you get to her." She looked away thoughtfully, as if seriously contemplating the issue.

"As if," I rolled my eyes, dismissively, "I tell her I care about her and she won't even give me the chance because of some asshole."

"Its not like that, Troy," Sharpay broke in, solemnly, "she probably just doesn't know if she can trust you yet. I mean, you guys haven't known each other that long. Gabriella kind of puts up an act, like she doesn't care. . . when its kind of obvious she does."

"Yeah, she shuts me out when she's starting to care," I mused.

"So you're jes gonna sit here and mope about it?" Zeke's eyebrows furrowed.

I snorted. "What else am I supposed to do? Obviously its not meant to be."

Sharpay laughed, "Meant to be? I never thought you were the fairytale type. But then again, clichés never work out easy. You guys are cliché you know, the bad girl and the good guy. Its so Disney." I couldn't help but notice the way her golden eyes had a malignant gleam to them when I looked in them.

"Dude, you gotta jes show her you ain't gonna give up. Show her you're the man."

I gave Zeke a look, "You're crazy, she already thinks I'm probably obsessed with her."

"When you're in love, it doesn't matter." Sharpay gave me a rather smug grin.

"Love?" She had to of been crazy. "I don't love Gabriella."

Zeke snorted, "Yeah, yeah, and that's why you're almost crying because she rejected you." He shook his head. "I don't know if you notice this man, but you look at her all the time, and I mean _all_ the time. Its not in the 'admiring' type of look either, its in the lovey-dovey way."

"Its obvious," Sharpay supported, "even I notice that. And with the way that she acts, it kind of seems like she feels the same way. So I don't know why you don't just stick it out. Girls love clichés."

"I don't love Gabriella." I told them, grudgingly. I couldn't. That'd just be impossible, right? I didn't know her well enough to love her. I may have thought about her a lot. . . or well, all the time. . . but that didn't mean that I love her.

"Whatever you say, Romeo," Zeke chuckled, "all I'm sayin' is you should do something about it before its too late. Write her a poem, serenade her or something. Take your clothes off and profess your love for her on the roof or something. I dunno man, just do something spontaneous."

"Once she knows that you're serious, once she can trust you, she'll probably admit to her feelings. She's just not sure whether you're actually true for her." Sharpay added in, wistfully. "Troy, you gotta be a man."

"Guys, I don't need your advice, or whatever this is supposed to be. . . mentoring session. I don't love her, and I'm not gonna do something crazy for her. She obviously doesn't like me, so I'm not even gonna bother." I told them as the bell rang. I gathered my things and headed out the door.

It was then I realized five things.

One, I really couldn't stand Sharpay and Zeke, especially together, because they came up with these really ridiculous assumptions.

Two, Gabriella may have been running away because she's afraid I won't catch her.

Three, I was a jackass because I was sulking over her rejecting me when I should have been doing something about it.

Four, I've never realized it before but we were a cliché. Hence, it was going to be hard to make it work, but it'd be worth the fight.

And five, I was madly in love with Gabriella Montez and I was going to have to do something to prove it to her.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

**A/N: **Sorry it sucked. Next chapter will be ten times better, I promise. You'll understand Gabriella's feelings better next chapter. Review!


	22. Chapter 22

"_She's so high, high above me, she's so lovely."_

-FASTBALL

* * *

_Gabriella's Mind-_

Life used to be such a piece of cake for me.

Seriously – once feelings get involved, everything becomes complicated.

And me, I just happen to be a closet-hopeless romantic….

(I didn't just tell you that though. So pretend you didn't read this.)

I couldn't help myself though. I was in love. Again. And I was trying my hardest to forget about it, to dispatch it from my mind.

I spent most of my Monday avoiding Troy. He knew this too. He ended up tracking me down and attempting to force an explanation out of me.

I can't deny the fact that it sincerely broke my heart to see the look that appeared across his face when I told him I was wrong about him. Personally, I thought I could get through it – I thought I wouldn't fall for him, that it could be just for play and maybe mean nothing. That's what I'm used to, anyways.

I was mistaken. I couldn't deny him. He always looked at me in a way I can't describe. It was beautiful – breathtaking. It sucked the life out of me and I knew I couldn't keep control when he was looking at me in that way. It wasn't good for me. It wasn't healthy. I wouldn't let myself break again. I remembered the feeling so well and it wasn't a good one.

Some of it was good, I guess. The part I couldn't stand was how I'd start relying on him. It's like I couldn't live without knowing he feels the same way. That's the worst part. And the letting go of it. What if it didn't work out between us? What if something tore us apart? I'd live with not one scar, but two. He surely had fixed me, and I definitely felt whole again… but once he smashed up the pieces, I'd not only be left with the scar he gave me, but the scar that he fixed that I received from Jason.

I didn't want trouble. I didn't want complication. I wanted to live without these necessities, these wants and desires. I was perfectly fine without him, I convinced myself as I laid on my bed, watching a storm approach Albuquerque's sky. It never rained in the desert. Ever since I moved here, it seemed to be a common thing.

I must have brought some bad luck, or something.

Thunder roared from the sky. I've never been a fan of storms, either. I had very little weaknesses, (one being a cute boy with beautiful blue eyes and the heart of an angel), so it was strange for me to have a small fear of storms.

Had a bear approached me, I wouldn't even fret. If I seen a ghost, I'd probably try and have an actual conversation with it, because that would be so fucking _tight_. Usually being scared is an adrenaline rush for me. I enjoy it. But when I actually despise a fear, then well, I really despise it.

Rain started pouring from the sky, as lightning flared into its grayness. It was almost terrifying, just looking out the window. It wasn't dark yet, just breaching on five o'clock. I held onto my knees protectively, lost in my thoughts on love.

I really wanted to erase the giddy feelings from my mind. If only there was a pill you could take that would free you of any strong feelings. Or erase memories. What I needed was hypnotism, or something. I needed to be disengaged from theses heart strings. They were driving me insane. Once I fell, I was dead in the water, and there was no swimming in the tough current.

As I continued to be preoccupied in these thoughts, I hardly noticed the sound of rocks being thrown up, hitting my window. It took me a moment to knock out of my daydreams. For a second, I thought I was dreaming, maybe having a nightmare and I didn't realize I was asleep. Maybe it was a hail storm or something.

I opened the sliding door to my balcony, ignoring the strong rain that fell on me, soaking me in its coldness. I was shivering as I noticed a tall figure below my balcony. He looked familiar – drenched dark hair and somber blue eyes looking up at me. It was none other than Troy Bolton. His hair was clinging to his face, which was wet from the rain. His clothes – a dark black t-shirt and straight legged jeans, seemed to stick to him, also drenched from the rain. Overall, he defined beauty, as usual, and I could easily feel him stealing oxygen from me as he continued to look up at me.

"What are you doing?" I yelled, thankful that my parents went out to eat to celebrate their 20th Anniversary, or something. I'm sure this was an odd picture, but Troy didn't move from where he was standing.

In response to my question, he propped himself up on a tree, climbing up a branch that lead directly to my balcony. It wasn't long before he was standing in front of me, a rather serious look on his face – his lips in a straight, firm line. "Gabriella, we need to talk."

The wind howled as the rain continued to spray down, feeling like rocks against my skin. He had to of been insane.

"If you haven't noticed, it's raining." I informed him in a shouting voice. My hair was now stringy and disgusting from the rain. I winced at the thought of what my eye makeup must have looked like.

"I don't care," He really didn't seem to mind. I didn't really have the room to think. He already had crashed his wet, golden lips onto my own, taking me by surprise as I stumbled back, my back running straight into the sliding door.

I was losing myself in his kiss as always before I found some self control and pushed him off of me, glaring at him with all I had left, "What the fuck, Troy?!"

"Gabriella, please," He was pleading with ocean-blue eyes and I couldn't help but trace the rain that fell down from his forehead to his chin. It was a fairytale that was for sure. But I couldn't buy into it.

"Please what? Didn't you hear what I said today? I don't want this. Don't do this." I was still screaming over the rain, and it's a wonder why we didn't just go into my room.

"I think you do," He bit down his bottom lip with so much pressure, I'm shocked it didn't bleed. Our noses were practically touching and I couldn't breathe correctly. "Gabriella, I'm in love with you." His eyes were electric in the rain and I couldn't concentrate on anything but their beauty. I was losing my control and I hated every part of what he was saying – mostly because I felt the same exact way.

I found myself surrendering as his lips were on my own again. My heart was slamming against my chest. I was so very desperate for him. I was longing for him. His body was now pressed against mine as I found myself backing into my room, ignoring the voices in my head telling me not to. My heart was on full command. Everything it wanted had to be done. I couldn't back down now.

Our tongues found each other, as usual, circling around each other's mouths, _hungry_ for the next step. And it wasn't long before he had me on my bed, trailing kisses from nose to my neck. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't fight off my obsession anymore. I quickly stripped off my clothes, and yanked off his shirt. We were both soaked, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The heat was impossible.

He was closing in on me, and I could feel his erection before he even undid his pants. The passion was so heavy I nearly fainted from breathing so heavily. And then he revealed his Calvin Klein's and I knew I wasn't going to be able to deny him. I wanted him – all of him. And nothing else mattered. I was in love with him. And I wanted to be as close to him as humanly possible… which meant…

"Gabriella," He was panting, and I could feel his heartbeat from where he was. My own was uncontrollable.

"Yes," I didn't care about my head, or what it was shouting at me. The way he unzipped his pants and continued planting kisses all over me… it was driving me mad.

And hungrily, violently, he drove himself inside of me. Not remembering the last time I felt such passion, I found myself sighing and moaning, like nothing could be so great. It was the ultimate. I felt his cheek against my shoulder as he continued pulling himself further inside of me. Thrusting. Oh God, it was beautiful.

"You're so… beautiful…" I whispered, not entirely sure of what I was saying. He was sweating from the amounts of strength and heat he was feeling. He was so powerful, so mature, as if he had done this thousands of times before… when he really hadn't, when he was actually as green as could be. It suddenly dawned on me that I was his first. _This_ was his first.

"Tell me you're in love with me, too, Gabriella," He begged, desperate to hear the wonderful response. And he continued panting. Thrusting. I had lost myself entirely in him. I was consumed in his magic. Nothing could stop this.

"I'm so in love with you that it makes me hate you all the same," I muttered, disgusted by my own loss of power, my own weakness. He was my weakness. I was a fool for him entirely. He had me wrapped around his finger.

It was unhealthy the effect he had on me. It was almost more than what I'm used to. I couldn't do anything but let him finish. He had to finish. And when I came to my own climax, I could be nothing less of satisfied. He was… amazing – in every aspect. I couldn't shake the pictures of us in my head. They continued dancing around my mind and I found myself falling even further in love with him.

When we finished, I lied next to him, just watching him. The thunder continued roaring outside, the lightning clashing against the sky. His eyes remained on me. I couldn't stop panting from the exhausting activity. And the movie kept playing, over and over again.

"I didn't want to become this girl again," I whispered to him, tracing my fingers down his eyes, his lips, and his perfect face I just kind of wanted to memorize over and over again until it was implanted in my memories forever.

He didn't say anything, just remained silent as he moved closer to me again, his rather sweaty lips against my own. It felt so right though – so complete that it made me feel anxious, and my insides trembled. It wasn't something a person could get used to. And even when I had been around him before, I never felt this aroused, this overjoyed. It was almost ridiculous and I cursed myself for being so vulnerable. I was the one who was supposed to be in control, not the one falling all over the place like a small girl.

The sky was now black, a complete eclipse. Everything seemed kind of meaningless though, besides the boy lying next to me. The world faded away easily when I was lying there, lost in his kiss against. I wanted to do it all over again and I found it rather pathetic that I was that desperate. Still.

And then I heard a door slam downstairs.

Shit.

My parents were home.

Troy and I departed quickly and he gave me a look that proved altogether he was terrified of my parents and what they would think if they caught us in bed together.

Before I knew it, I was kicking him out, practically kicking his ass out onto my balcony. He seemed kind of aggravated that I was so forcefully getting rid of him but I didn't give a shit. My parents were already pissed off at me for being a little bitch all the time. They didn't need to see how slutty I was too.

"This isn't a onetime thing," He practically told me. I'm sure it wasn't. I was so involved that no matter how hard I'd try, I couldn't back away. His lips were on my own again and I could feel he still wanted more, as did I.

I cut the kiss off quick, "Troy, you have to go home – my parents are going to be pissed if they find you here. Look, come later tonight." The invitation was rather seductive as I found myself breathing heavily in his neck. "Midnight,"

"Midnight? Gabriella are you crazy—"

"Shut up, I love you," I swallowed the lump in my throat that appeared after I said those gigantic, meaningful words. Troy didn't complain as I kissed him on the cheek and then on the lips one final time before leaving him out on my balcony.

I slammed the sliding door as I heard footsteps on the stairs. Fuck.

I heard something hit the ground extremely loud as the footsteps continued. I sprinted to the balcony and realized it was just clumsy-ass Troy Bolton, who of course, fell off the branch he used to climb up. He was on his ass, looking as embarrassed as can be, face red and all. I found myself laughing mockingly as he ran back to his house, the redness never leaving his face.

"Gabriella?" It was my mother's voice and I mumbled a few profanities underneath my breath in response. As we all know, I couldn't stand my parents and it was a nightmare for them to even attempt to have a civilized conversation with me. It wasn't going to be civilized at all – it was going to be a lecture of some sort.

* * *

Mama Teresa didn't have much to say. She tried to have a civilized conversation, surprisingly. That didn't work out so well. I really just bitched her out when she tried to ask me what the hell I was doing all night. So badly I wanted to tell her I was fucking the daylights out of McSexy, but I decided against it.

(Yes, I did just say McSexy. Damn Grey's Anatomy has got me saying 'Mc' before everything. Ugh.)

Yeah, I'm not going to call Troy that ever again. It just doesn't add up to me. He's just the sex. Does that make any sense? He's literally sex. _Sex_. When I told myself he would be hot in bed, I didn't lie. That's pretty fucked up considering the fact that it was an assumption. And I never really wanted to do it with him because I knew I would care too much.

Obviously I did. I was inviting him back for a rematch. Fuck.

I never did rematches, unless it was an actual boyfriend.

Troy was not my boyfriend. I knew that much. But it wouldn't be long before he would want that title. And that was the hard part. I didn't usually do boyfriends. I only had one my entire life and he wasn't the greatest, if you haven't noticed. But I'm starting to believe it was just because of his name. Any man named Jason is a monster no matter which way you put it. Plus, I noticed his middle name was 'Gabriel'. Secretly, he wasn't the good angel. Instead he was the evil one.

That's even more fucked up though. Why would you name your son after an angel if he's anything but an angel? He's like the damn Grim Reaper with the way he rips out girl's hearts and acts like he gives a shit. Truthfully he doesn't though. He just likes to lie until he has a bottle up his ass. Then he tells the truth about the bottle. What the fuck?

Alright, I'm done ranting about bottles.

But seriously, I had to break up with him. If your boyfriend was saying he could stick a bottle up his ass, you'd be kind of petrified also. That's just wrong… on so many levels. The sad part was I stuck up for him for about 2 years and said it was just a joke. Then he treated me like shit. WHAT AN ASSHOLE!

Now he's probably on the curb snorting cocaine or something with one of those ghetto girls that talk all ghetto and live in the ghetto. (I do not kid you.)

In short, he's probably fucking ghetto.

What kind of smart ass made up the word ghetto anyways? It reminds me of a gecko. Like what does ghetto and gecko have in common? That's what I'd like to know. Or maybe I myself have been smoking too many blunts. HA.

Btw, I really need to get Troy to loosen up when it comes to that. He's really scared of marijuana and cigarettes and it's starting to piss me off. Really, we're all going to die anyways, why not speed up the process?

Okay, so I waited up until about midnight because I'm that fucking obsessed or something. (I'm not usually the girl that waits for guys… ugh.) It did surprise me though when the rain finally stopped and Troy Bolton was found hiking up the tree branch that he so gracefully fell down earlier to get up to my balcony.

I smirked.

Rematch time, indeed.

And then there he was, all ready and stuff. So I took advantage of him again and it wasn't long before we were fucking full speed, doggy style. It was almost as if he went home and read a book about sex and practiced and got better. Wait, that's possible isn't it? No. He'd have to be fucking another girl. Or… ugh, I don't even want to think about any other possibilities… with all those weird-ass sex toys they have out there, the thought scares the shit out of me.

By the time we finished, we were both so wore out. Plus, it was around two in the morning. That's two hours of straight-up sex. And we had school in the morning. I almost considered skipping.

I ignored the idea of kicking him out and just lay beside him again, both of us staring up at the ceiling in awe of the amazing chemistry we shared.

"You should just stay the night." I suggested, not looking back at him.

"I can't, tomorrow's school, remember?" he sounded… well, surprisingly _agitated_ that we had school tomorrow. And here I thought he was Mr. Academic Honors.

"What the--- are you actually upset that we have to go to school tomorrow? Shit, Bolton, you really have mellowed."

Troy rolled his eyes. "I never said I liked school."

"You should if you have a brain like that. Fuck, I would be like making every else feel stupid. It would be awesome, especially Zeke, I'd really piss him off."

He almost chuckled, almost.

"I'm serious though, Gabriella – I have to get home." He sounded kind of worried as he looked over at me. "I can't believe I actually snuck over here at this time of night."

"Oh, don't go all remorseful now. You know you wanted to. And like I said, you should just stay, and we could skip school, or something."

At this statement, blue eyes became bigger than usual, "You've got to be kidding!"

"Do I look kidding?" I was very serious. "You need to take a shit sometime, Troy. Like I said before, I don't know, one million times. Is it so bad if you break your perfect record?"

"Yeah, because my dad will kill me…."

"My parents won't notice, and then we could sneak out during the day and get really high. I think it's what you need." I grinned, cheekily.

His eyes got even wider. Oh how I love making him squirm. "Gabriella?"

"Troy, we're never going to work out if you continue judging the things that I do. I'm telling you, you need to take the edge off. Smart guys do it all the time. How the hell are you ever going to keep my heart if you can't even enjoy Mari Jane with me?"

Troy bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving mine. I could tell the idea terrified him and almost made him piss his pants, but for some reason, I found myself practically threatening him. "If you don't, I may just never talk to you again."

"You can't do that…" He looked crestfallen at the idea.

"I told you, we're from two different worlds. You may not belong in mine if you can't learn to accept the things that I do. So I'm telling you, if you want to make it work, you'll take the day off with me. Just this once…. You won't get in trouble."

"No, this is stupid, Gabriella," And with a huff, he got up, revealing his naked body, and stripped back on his boxer briefs, his pants and shirt, which were now sticking to him because they were wet. The clock read three o'clock now and I could see the nervousness he was feeling.

I rolled my eyes realizing he wasn't going to give in so easily. I copied his motions, throwing on my own clothes and stalking him to the balcony. Before he could jump off and fall on his ass like before, I stood in his way.

"Troy." I put on my ever-so-famous smirk and pushed him into the wall, kissing him on his neck – his weakest point. "Come on. Stay with me." I grasped the rim of his pants, licking the bottom of my lip seductively.

He couldn't control himself whatsoever… especially when I ran my hand around his 'area'. I could tell he was getting aroused at just that. It wasn't long before he was into a mad erection again. Lord, help the horny, yet beautiful adolescent.

And it didn't take much for him to have no choice but to agree.

It was then I knew he did love me… simply because Troy Bolton hated marijuana at all costs, but he was willing to skip school and smoke pot just to be with me all day.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

**A/N: **Oh my god, I'm sorry it took me so long. I've been in severe writer's block forever. But guess what, I may get a book published! Some publishing companies agreed, so that's exciting. I guess my writing is pretty good. Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter. I put my heart into it and FINALLY Troy's about to loosen up. And him high? Is anyone excited? Because I am… (What you do for the people you love, right?) Ahem. Well, leave your reviews. Let me know what you think. Btw, I love Gabriella's ranting. It makes my day. :P

-Whitney.


	23. Chapter 23

_"Oh, a simple complication. Miscommunications lead to fall outs. So many things that I wish you knew. So many walls up I can't break through."_

_-_Taylor Swift

* * *

_Troy's Mind-_

I always looked at sex like it was a work of art. It should be handled slowly with a lot of precaution. I know. Stupid.

With Gabriella, sex was the total opposite. It was rough, fast and there was no hesitation. And for some reason, I wanted more and more of it.

I couldn't get enough. It was like a drug that had taken me over, numbed all my senses and left me lying on the floor, desperate for my next fix.

Instead of lying on a floor, I was lying in her bed. Naked. Exposed.

The worst part about it was I was right next to her. She was sleeping soundly, lost in some dream world of her own. She seemed totally relaxed over the idea of us sharing the same bed. Me, I was restless. Freaking out.

There were so many things I could do wrong in this position. I could snore (which would be really embarrassing, considering she would harass me for the rest of my life). I could roll over the wrong way and practically crush her. I could talk in my sleep, confessing all my feelings for her. I could always pass gas, or do something equally humiliating like have a dream about her...

God.

I looked up at her digital clock. It read 4:06 AM. I sighed to myself. I was exhausted but the wheels in my brain wouldn't stop turning. There was nothing that could put me at ease.

Not with her next to me.

I realized I was in love with her.

Yeah, it was a moronic, "you jump, I jump" kind of love too. I always watched those cheesy movies and didn't believe in happy ever after. Then I met Gabriella and my whole world changed. All I wanted was to make her happy, to please her at all times. If that meant acting like a complete idiot in front of millions of people... I'd still do it if she'd smile afterwards.

What was becoming of me? I was this obsessive compulsive person. My heart was deciding, rather than my head. Surely Gabriella wasn't the best thing for me. She liked to drink too much, smoke cigarettes _and _she hung out with Zeke. (Zeke alone could cause brain damage if you're around him too long).

There was this constant bellowing in my mind, reminding me that we were from two different worlds. We had nothing in common. Well, except... our feelings.

Again, I was in denial. She had kissed me, got naked with me, all these wonderful things I couldn't even describe. But still, I had my doubts about the way she felt. She was flighty. One minute she liked Chad, the next she was hanging out with Zeke. Obsessing over yoga boy... yet she picked _me_.

What was so powerful about me? Sure, I was the captain of the basketball team and girls are East High have fawned over me for years. That didn't change anything. I was stubborn, selfless to a stupid point, and I actually preferred sitting in to getting drunk. That made me lame compared to every other adolescent in my school. I didn't act my age. Instead, I acted like a 65 year old man, afraid of damaging his health. I ran about five miles a day, did sit up's before bed and bench pressed every time I had the chance. I rarely ate more than 2,000 calories a day because I hated overeating. I was a freak, a health freak.

Meanwhile, Gabriella found entertainment in giving herself cancer and hanging out with Sharpay, who was just high maintenance and required a certain amount of patience just to deal with her drama. Plus, Gabriella listened to music that spoke strictly of orgasms and cocaine. Seriously, who _was_ Little Wayne?

My eyes began to sting from my lack of shut eye. I was fighting a battle with deprivation and I wasn't going to win this time.

Nervously, I let myself drift off.

* * *

The light was hard to avoid and I instantly imagined it was mid-day when I woke up. Realizing it was probably mid-day scared the living shit out of me.

The figure beside me was still in dream world. A rush of relief came through me.

I carefully peeled the blanket we were sharing off of my body and got up, eyeballing the clock from afar. Of course, it was one o'clock in the afternoon. Why was I so surprised?

My heartbeat had sped up as I checked my cell phone. My dad had been blowing up my phone with texts, questioning my location and why I wasn't in school. I decided not to answer and grabbed my boxer-briefs and my jeans, slipping them on with haste. I didn't notice the young girl stirring from behind me.

"Troy?"

I knew I had been caught as I turned around for a meteoric second before throwing my t-shirt on. (Which was soaked, making me smell like a wet dog.)

"What the hell are you doing?" She didn't give up on me just yet.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed she was getting out of bed. She was naked still. I could make out the perfectly trimmed hair on her privates. That alone gave me an erection. I did my best to ignore this.

Knowing my luck, she would be ultimately perfect with her perky breasts and her tiny yet noticeable ass. Suddenly, it felt good to say I actually had sex with her. Man, it even gave me some confidence. I hated to admit that Zeke and I were almost on the same level at this point in time. I was just dirty. And I didn't care.

I was _really_ dirty. I seriously forgot I was putting my clothes back on when I turned to stare at her. I really wished she would've just saved me the dilemma and put some clothes on. She knew how crazy I was about her. She knew I wasn't used to feeling this strongly about someone. Or being this attracted to someone...

"Well? Are you going to answer me, or are you just going to check me out for another few minutes?"

Her hair was all frazzled from her slumber but to me, it looked just fine.

"I... do you know what time it is?" I needed to change the subject, to distract myself. I didn't need to continuously think of her body...

"Uh, yeah. It's like one o'clock. Why? Do you got a date?"

I knew she was messing with me. But she could sense my worry more than anyone else.

"If you're worried because we missed school, don't be. You needed a day off. You work your ass off and never get any credit for it. It's bull shit really."

"It's not that easy..." I told her, hoping she'd put her clothes on soon.

Didn't look like the thought even crossed her mind.

"Yeah, it is. Just... don't think. Anyways, I was thinking we could go out. We could have some fun or something." She suggested.

The grin on her face was kind of scary. I recognized this grin. It was the same grin she used when she put on 'Little Wayne' in my vehicle. That grin scared the hell out of me, honestly.

She must have read my mind.

"Well, don't take a shit or anything... I'm not gonna trick you into murder or something. I'm just saying... you need a day out of the house. We could go hang out with people or something."

_People_. Now that was open to question. I never seen Gabriella hang out with anyone besides Sharpay and Zeke. Who were these 'people' she was referring to? Were they dark figures? Did they have tattoos everywhere? Did they sit in a circle and smoke marijuana all night like they do in That 70's Show?

I looked at the door, eager to get out of this predicament I got myself involved in. Why did I agree to meet her late? Why did I allow myself to fall asleep next to her? This was such a mess. I couldn't just go 'out' with her... I couldn't 'hang' with her and her friends... they were probably just like her: erratic and unpredictable. They probably spoke their minds and didn't wear shirts. They were probably a bunch of big guys... she probably hung out with all guys!

My mind was screaming. _No way!_ I could barely handle her in all her bellyache but with several guys involved, hitting on her left and right... I'll probably end up with a black eye at the end of the night. Not because I was jealous and punching them out, just because they thought it'd be funny to hit the sober guy.

Great.

"Troy? Chill out. It'll be fun." Sure, fun. Because black eyes are all sorts of fun.

Did I mention she was still naked? Butt-naked.

I watched her as she finally headed towards her dresser, pulling out what looked like a black thong and a matching lacey bra. I felt like something was caught in my throat as I desperately tried to swallow. The air was hot all of a sudden, like a blistering desert. Why was I still standing here like an idiot?

"Well, I'm gonna hit the shower. Make yourself at home, I guess. There's some dirty magazines underneath my bed, BTW." She gave me her usual smirk, winking at me.

My face reddened. Sure, like I was interested in dirty magazines.

With a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, along with her undies, she headed downstairs, leaving me alone in her bedroom.

I just stood on her wooden floor, unsure what to make of the situation. My t-shirt stuck to me, making me feel uncomfortable. I headed towards the door, checking to make sure she was already down the stairs. I decided it was okay to snoop a little bit.

Her room was just mediocre, nothing out the ordinary. She had her bulletin board with pictures of her ex I found myself glancing at momentarily. The guy seriously looked like a douche. I had no idea why she felt the need to keep his picture up. I wondered if she was still in love with him... secretly.

Nah.

There was also a picture of her and a few girls. I imagined they were her friends back in New York. They were in Times Square, drinking what I presumed was alcohol. Their eyes were bloodshot and they were laughing like they just had the best night of their lives. Maybe they had. It looked like it was New Years Eve because there were millions of people behind them and it was snowing.

So, she must of drank from time to time when she lived in New York too.

Curiously, I walked around her room, checking out the things she had to show. She had a vanity table with a mirror. I could see her makeup and hair products were placed here. On the mirror was a photo of her. It looked like it was only a few years old, a high school photo. She looked well... beautiful, of course. Her hair was still long, passed her shoulders. Her eyes reminded me of a sunset, they were filled with happiness and yet that usual mystery. I was bemused for a second, taking in the innocence she held. Where did it go? I wasn't sure.

I forced myself away from the photo, taking a seat on her bed. She sure took awhile to take a shower. Guess that was a girl thing though.

Despising the boredom I was feeling, I reached underneath her bed, double-checking the door beforehand. No sight of her. Man, there was something wrong with me. I had no doubt about that.

I didn't understand as I examined the stack of magazines she had hidden. One was a Cosmopolitan, nothing too exciting. The cover mentioned something about 25 different sex positions your partner will enjoy. The thought of trying new sex positions with Gabriella seemed almost invigorating. I tried to distract myself by flipping to the next magazine. Here it was. Two brunettes touching each other in the wrong places, completely naked. Feeling almost guilty, I bit down my bottom lip and went to the next page. Had I ever looked at a dirty magazine?

Nope.

Maybe there was something wrong with me. Most guys thrived on this kind of stuff. They lived for watching porn and flipping through filthy magazines filled with fake boobs and washboard abs. I could live without it, personally.

That didn't stop me from looking at the next page. The girl was kind of hot, I guess. She had beach blonde hair and sapphire colored eyes. She was only in a bikini but the bikini was see-through. She had to of been photo shopped, her face had no blemishes. Her body was supermodel material. Yeah, she was very unrealistic. I suddenly realized I found Gabriella _much _hotter.

I liked the way she had a few blemishes here and there. Sometimes her face wouldn't be perfect, her makeup would get smudged. Her hair actually got kind of frizzy after it rained. She had the best curves. She wasn't a stick, nor was she supermodel material. She was just right.

Hearing footsteps, I immediately panicked, throwing the magazines underneath the bed.

Gabriella walked in with a pair of jeans on that hugged her behind, along with a t-shirt that revealed her bellybutton. This wasn't some kind of surprise. She liked to wear provocative clothing. She was looking at me funny, like I looked suspicious.

"You totally were looking at my dirty magazines."

"No."

"Yes, you were!" She seemed awfully amused as she ran towards her bed, grabbing the stacks of her magazines that were all unorganized. "They were stacked neatly. You are _so_ dirty."

"No, I'm not." I denied, my face growing hotter by the second.

"Yes, you are. You're just like me. You're filthy. You like sex and you love to masturbate in the shower. More importantly you like slutty women taking their clothes off. It totally turns you on."

"No, it doesn't." She was kind of annoying me now.

_She _turned me on.

"Oh. OK." She flipped her dark hair to the side, approaching me.

She became so close to me, I could taste her on my lips already. Her body was pressed against me, making it hard to take normal, steady breaths. I became panicky as usual, my heartbeat increasing speed. I was on a rollercoaster, going one hundred miles per hour. There was no stopping. My stomach continued doing flip flops as usual. This feeling was all so familiar, as was the desire to do it all over again.

She did the unexpected. She began taking her clothes off, one by one, piece by piece. I could only stare in wonder, as stumped as ever. She was still wrong. I wasn't turned on by slutty women taking their clothes off. I was turned on by _her_ taking her clothes off.

In one second, we were doing it all over again. As if we had never done it before. Like this was our first time. It felt good. So good.

After a few hours of well... you know, we finally left her house.

My dad was still blowing up my phone and I was learning how to ignore him. I couldn't help that constant dread I felt every time I looked at my phone. How I wished I would have just went to school and been well-behaved. Why did I have to listen to Gabriella?

My mind changed as I looked at her in the driver's seat. She was... hot. Really hot. Unbelievably hot. Especially with the wind blowing in her hair and the dark shades over her face. She was worth skipping school for. For me, that was saying a lot.

I must have been changing. Probably for the worst. I hated this. I hated how I had no control over my actions. Gabriella had more control over me then I did. If she wanted something, I'd give it to her. She jumps, I'll jump. It was stupid. I was stupid. I was a fool for her and nothing was changing that.

_And you're bad news, my friends tell me to leave you. You're bad news, bad news._

Some chick music this was. I momentarily missed listening to her music that ranted on about sex and drugs. Seriously. What _was_ this? Grey's Anatomy's soundtrack? Or Sex and the City?

"We're going to JoJo's."

Great. JoJo. Who the hell was JoJo? Actually, why in the world would someone name their child JoJo to begin with? Reminded me of that guy off Cartoon Network. MoJoJoJo. Or whatever. He said it in a really funny voice though. I tried to hold back a laugh.

It wasn't long before Gabriella had pulled up on the side of the road, parking her Honda Civic. I took a brief look at the area and wasn't completely wrong about Gabriella's friends. We must have been in the bad side of Albuquerque. There were rundown apartments nearby. We were right next to some dive and a few car places. I noticed a sex store a few blocks down.

Maybe a few strip clubs too.

Rubbing my head, I hesitated before getting out of the car. This was definitely not my style. I wasn't into the gangs and the drugs and the stealing cars thing. That was reserved for people that had tattoos and wore dark clothing. Goths, or whatever they were called. Or guys who wore wife beaters. Something like that.

I suddenly missed basketball and Zeke's loud mouth. Missing Zeke was definitely not on my agenda for the day either. Where was my constant sobriety? Who was I?

After following up the stairs to a room titled '340', Gabriella knocked on the door. She didn't even look at me. She could obviously tell I was a little panicked. She knew me like a book, after all.

Seconds passed. No answer.

Finally, after a second knock, a tall, skinny African American kid, who looked about our age stepped out. When he seen Gabriella, his whole face lit up.

"Baby G! For real, girl. Is that you?" He seemed elated as if he embraced her like they had known each other forever.

I suddenly felt like a ghost, like I was just invisible.

The guy was dressed like a street thug in a pair of baggy jeans and a t-shirt too big for him. He wore a cap tilted to the side and had a patch of hair on his chin. He had a large, gaudy tattoo on his right shoulder. I was completely right. Gabriella did hang out with gangsters.

He finally noticed me, as I attempted to hide behind Gabriella. I wasn't exactly 'gang' material. I stood with my dark, expensive jeans and my black t-shirt. My hair was probably a mess. Gabriella forced me out of her house without a shower or deodorant or anything. I probably smelled like a dirty asshole. Literally...

Self-conscious, I decided to make the most of this situation. I offered a hand to the fellow, unsure if that was his style. I knew lots of gangsters had their own handshake. I didn't know it though.

"Troy." I introduced myself politely.

"Sup. I'm JoJo. Me an' Gabriella are tight. We met a long ass time ago, when she jus' moved here." JoJo explained, glancing back at Gabriella who grinned virtuously.

"Well, come on in." He opened the door for us.

I was hesitant at first, following behind Gabriella. His apartment was pretty shabby after all. The walls were filthy, like they had been painted years ago. The rooms were small and all crammed together. The kitchen and the living-room were adjoined. To my surprise, JoJo wasn't the only one in the apartment.

As we approached the living-room, I noticed a familiar face. It was Zeke, he was playing video games with two young women I had never seen before. Obviously he was really involved in the game. His eyes were slit in concentration as he banged on the controller. The girls seemed less interested.

All in one moment, Zeke had dropped the controller. I assumed his character died. He seemed awfully pissed off. The girls had a look of satisfaction on their faces.

"This is Zeke, y'all know each other... and this my two ladies, Cami and Jamie." JoJo told us. "You guys want a beer?"

I swallowed thickly. _Beer_? Yeah right.

"Hell yeah." Gabriella answered, not even seeing the look on my face.

It was too late to run away now. Zeke had just turned around from the television screen.

"T? Is that really you?"

I didn't have to respond.

"Well, shit! I'll be damned." He got up off the floor, really stoked.

I cringed inside as he wrapped a large arm around me. "Never thought I'd see the day. But shit, son. This is the party to be at, brotha."

I looked around. Yeah, nothing exciting here. There were XBOX video games on the floor, along with an old pizza box. I imagined the pizza was still good because one of the girls was snacking on it.

There were a few empty beer cans sitting on the floor. As I looked elsewhere, I found myself staring at what I assumed was a bong. I hated to admit it. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

JoJo came back with two beers, one which I presumed was for Gabriella. He then handed me one. I just gave him a rather confused look, shaking my head.

"I don't drink, man."

I felt Gabriella's eyes on me from afar.

"None of us do, dawg. Just check it out, you know?" I knew he was kidding. Of course they all drank. They just wanted me to chill out... or whatever.

The Miller Light stayed in my hand.

Damn.

"Who are these people?" One of the girls slurred. Must have been Cami. She was a little overweight, dark hair and dark eyes. Nothing special.

The two of them were dressed in almost nothing though. Boy beaters and miniskirts. That was all.

"This is Baby G, she's real cool. And this her boy, Troy." JoJo introduced us.

I swallowed. _Her boy._ That sounded so stupid, so juvenile. I took a seat in one of the bean bags by the television. Of course, they were gross.

I was her boyfriend, dammit. Not her little boy.

Right now I definitely felt like a little boy though. I stared at the beer in my hand. Hard. I really didn't want to. But I did. I took a swig. It didn't feel right. What would my dad say right now?

_Son, I'm very disappointed in you._

Something like that.

"Huh, you go to school?" It was Jami's question. I could tell it was directed to me because her eyes were on me.

Out of the two girls, Jami was the most attractive. She had reddish brown hair and hazel eyes. Her hair was down to her back. She looked like she was pretty tall. She could have been a supermodel had she wanted to. She had a tattoo on what looked like the back of her arm. She wore a beater and a miniskirt like Cami.

"East High." Gabriella answered before I could get a word out.

I looked over to her. She looked a little annoyed as she took what I considered a swig of her beer.

"Oh." Jami shut up as she broke eye contact with me, biting on her bottom lip.

Her cell phone rang and she headed to the other room.

"Well... are we ready to begin?" Zeke asked, eagerly.

Begin?

"Hell yeah we are." JoJo grinned.

As I watched the two exchange exciting grins, I didn't realize Gabriella had approached me. She casually plopped down on my lap. As usual, my heart stopped beating for a thick second. I was brought back to the memory of us in bed last night. I held myself back from thinking such things.

She obviously noticed my discomfort because she turned to look me in the eyes. She reeked like beer but her eyes were like an angel's. Her eyes possessed such innocence. I was getting lost in them, forgetting there were people around us.

To my dismay, Zeke had gotten out that bong from the other side of the room. I broke out of my daydream and focused on the picture in front of me. JoJo had a bag of something I hoped wasn't a drug. He was breaking the substance down into itty bitty pieces. My head ached at the thought.

Gabriella distracted me from the stress as she ran her fingers through my hair. My hair must have been pretty gross by now since she hadn't let me shower. She didn't seem to mind though.

"Don't worry." She told me.

And for some reason, I actually stopped worrying.

A moment went by. That substance must have been marijuana because they were putting it into the bong.

They were all taking turns and I suddenly felt like I was participating in an episode of _That 70's Show._

Gabriella had moved off of me, for it was now her turn. I watched as smoke clouded up the room and she smiled in some sort of relief. I hated to think that she looked good no matter what she did. But when she offered me a turn, I politely declined, sitting back in the raunchy bean bag.

Gabriella didn't accept my rejection.

"Come _on_, just relax. One time."

"Don't be a bitch, Troy." Zeke lectured from in front of me, his eyes blazed.

"Yeah, man, we all friends here. No pressure but it ain't gonna kill you. If anything, it'll help you live longer. You won't be so stressed out all the time." JoJo gave his own opinion, too.

"Don't make him if he doesn't wanna. Some people jes' can't handle Mary Jane. No big deal. Just let him sulk by himself." Cami said, shaking her head.

"Nah, he'll jes go fake-baking or something. Go hang with Clay Aiken and try and figure out what the measure of a man is."

I didn't have to look to know Zeke said that.

"Zeke, really? Clay Aiken? Can't you find someone else to talk about?"

"Not really. He is and always will be, gay with babies." Zeke answered, barely putting words together.

"A lot of guys are gay with babies. So what?" Cami gave him a frown.

"I dunno. I jes' don't get how gay guys can have babies. Do they get vagina's built into them?"

"Shut up Zeke. They adopt them, you dickhead." Gabriella rolled her eyes.

"Poor kids."

"Man, why we talkin' about Clay still? We got lots of dank left. Let's smoke it all up. And Troy, stop bein' scared. Shit ain't gonna come out and choke you when you're sleepin'." JoJo had grabbed the bong again.

"Guys, I'm fine, really." I didn't want to tell them they sounded like jackasses.

"He just thinks he's too good for us, that's all." Gabriella said, giving me what could have been the nastiest look I've ever seen.

"Hell yeah. His shit does smell like flowers after all. I've smelled it when he left the bathroom after basketball practice." Zeke thought this was hilarious, as he started laughing so hard tears almost came down his eyes.

"I'm not saying that. I just...don't need to get in trouble from my dad."

"No offense man, but your dad sounds like a asshole. Bet he smokes in his spare time too. All assholes do. They need somethin' to do to calm down after all." JoJo suggested, taking a hit.

"Yeah, it's true. About 99% of our society smokes weed. Why do you think they're trying to legalize it? Obama does too." Cami mentioned.

"Obama's my nigga. Seriously, we'd go so hard together. If I could smoke with anyone in the whole world, it'd be him. Well... him or Marley. But we know that ain't gonna happen."

"Has anyone ever noticed when you smoke a lot of weed, everything looks like... one million times bigger? Like your head. You look like George Lopez." Gabriella told Zeke.

"Yeah I know. I dunno why my head gets so big. Maybe it's 'cuz the more I smoke, the sexier I get. Get it?" Zeke grinned.

Gabriella rolled her eyes then looked over to me. "Come on, babe. You know you wanna smoke! Take a ride on the magical mystery bus."

"Yeah man. Right now, I'm chillen' with Ringo Starr and he's droppin' acid with me." Zeke was an idiot.

"Magical mystery bus. Wasn't that Scooby Doo?" Cami inquired.

"Hell, if I know. I jes' know the Beatles were the shit. Wish I could've shit all over that guy that killed Lennon. Crazy or not."

"For real. I would have helped you. He'd be all shit faced." Gabriella laughed.

I needed to leave...now.

"Hey Roy, catch a hit, man. Join the party."

"It's Troy..." I corrected JoJo.

"Oh. Yeah. Fuck, I'm sorry man. You know, if I was a white boy, I'd wanna look like you. I can tell you get a lot of pussy. You jes' got that pretty boy swag."

"Troy don't get no pussy. Troy gets Gabriella." Zeke corrected.

"You know, I really need to use the restroom. JoJo, could you tell me where it's at?" I asked, deciding this would be the best time to get out of this room.

The smoke was smothering me after all.

"Sure. It's down the hall to the right. Kinda small, but gets the job done."

I excused his comment as I made my way towards the hallway, looking out for the bathroom. I really didn't have to but I just needed to get away from them for a second. I needed an escape. I could barely breathe yet alone think.

As I walking towards the bathroom, I overheard someone crying in another room. Curious, I peeped in, only to find that girl, Jami sitting on JoJo's bed, her head in her hands. She was sobbing viciously, like it was the end of the world.

I tried not to be Mr. Good Guy but that never came easy for me. I wasn't the type of guy to just walk away. Gabriella was a good example of that.

Quietly, I crept into the room, taking a seat next to the crying girl. She barely noticed me. There was a lull in the room suddenly. I bit down on my bottom lip, imagining the look on Gabriella's face. She'd be laughing at me, saying, "You just couldn't resist, could you?"

I wasn't a slut or anything. It wasn't about that. I was just attracted to troubled people. I always did the right thing, helped out those in need. I was the nice guy. I cared more about other people than myself. Even people like Gabriella and her kind. What I mean by "her kind" is the type of people that smoked weed all day and didn't worry about careers or school. They were careless rebellions. They didn't want to impress anyone because they already let everyone down.

Me, I was bound to let everyone down. I just hadn't done it yet. Half of me wished I could just cut everyone off, let them know I'm not some flawless angel. I made mistakes all the time. I was dating who most people would consider a "whore". I hated that term though. To me, she wasn't a whore. She was just confused, emotionally abused and lost in this world. She needed guidance and I felt maybe I could give her that kind of comfort she needed to get back on her feet again. Probably wouldn't happen though. She has barely changed...

"Are you OK?" It felt like déjà vu asking her this.

She turned to face me, tearstained eyes. "Yeah... kinda. Why do you care? Shouldn't you be out there with your girlfriend, or whatever she is?"

Probably. "I'm not into the whole party scene." I admitted, almost shamefully.

"Oh..." She looked into my eyes, as if searching for the truth. "I understand. I don't like it much myself. But there's not much to do around here."

Not much to do? I'm sure there's better things to do with your life then destroying your liver and burning up your brain cells.

"You know, I've met your girlfriend before. She's kind of a slut. We were at this party that JoJo threw and she was all over these guys."

Sad part was, I definitely believed her.

"Yeah, that's Gabriella. She's not really a slut, just has a lot of problems."

"A guy like you deserves better." She told me with confidence.

I looked away, unsure what to say. She may have been right. With Gabriella, it was an up and down rollercoaster. Gabriella had played several games with me. I didn't want to think of myself like I was better than her. But it would be a lot easier if she would have figured her life out before making me fall in love with her.

"My boyfriend and I broke up. It shouldn't matter. He was a total douche. He hit me almost every day." She confessed, looking out the window, wistfully.

"I'm sorry."

"The way he broke up with me was what really hurt me. He called me trashy, ugly, called me a bunch of names. Do you think I'm ugly? I know we don't know each other very well.."

I took another look at her. She wasn't ugly. She was actually very attractive. I wasn't particularly interested in her but I didn't understand how someone as pretty as her would let someone push her around. She deserved better than that.

"Maybe it's because I smoke. I drink. I cuss. I do everything good girls don't, you know? But you know how that is. Gabby sure cusses like a sailor. And she doesn't care what people think about her."

That was true.

"What made you fall in love with her?"

What a weird... random question. It made me think. It was between the way she smirked or the way she walked. Maybe it was the way she spoke her mind and didn't give a damn if anyone got offended. Like when she told off Sharpay for the first time. That was brilliant.

"Her honesty."

"I figured." She gave me a soft smile before leaning in closer to me.

I felt a little uncomfortable.

"You're cute, you know? You could have any girl you want. She should be worried. Shouldn't leave you alone or let you get out of her sights."

If there was anything Gabriella wasn't, it was clingy. She didn't like to be clingy. She didn't like to be poetic or romantic or any of that stuff. It just wasn't her cup of tea. I was kind of glad for that. However, it still made me wonder from time to time if she even really liked me...

"If I was your girlfriend, I would be so worried..." She whispered as she leaned in even closer.

I panicked. Easily. My mind was going blank, my heart racing. Obviously the girl was grim but this was not the way to deal. Gabriella would be furious. I wasn't even interested. The thought never even crossed my mind. Sure, I had acknowledged she was good-looking but a lot of girls were. That never changed the way I felt: I felt nothing.

Maybe it was just a few sips of that beer that got to me. It was fogging up my judgment. Normally I wouldn't be _this consoling_. I would have just walked straight to the bathroom and back to the living room. Instead, I was listening to a girl sulk. Now was my payback. She was trying to kiss me! Damn.

_Move_! My mind screamed, begging that I would just get out of the way. Finally, I found the courage and watched the scene unravel as I got up. She looked pissed. What did she expect? She knew I had a girlfriend. Well, maybe Gabriella wasn't acting like a 'girlfriend' right now, but we were still in a committed relationship.

"Gabriella doesn't appreciate you." She finally blurted, that turbulence never leaving her hazel eyes.

Honestly, she looked like a monster.

A minute passed. No sound. It was all uncomfortable silence. I fidgeted, deciding it was time for me to walk away. Maybe I had just ruined her night. Her boyfriend already called her names and broke up with her. Then there was me, the idiot that sat and listened, only to reject her minutes later. Half of me wondered why I didn't just let her kiss me. Hell, my girlfriend liked a drug more than she liked me.

It was my turn to walk away now. There was no other reason for me to stay. Something inside of me was kind of pissed off. I wasn't upset with this girl that had almost taken advantage of me. Instead, I was furious with the girl that I was so unbearably in love with. Why? I realized now. Because she didn't care how _I_ felt.

I got up, ignoring the pitiful eyes that were now following me. Maybe I was insane, turning down a beautiful girl. All I could feel was rejection. I felt rejected because Gabriella was too busy smoking weed to understand I wasn't interested. I was so bored I had to comfort some helpless girl. She couldn't just accept I didn't like to party. She had to push me. When I declined, she kept pushing, only to throw in my face how lame and awful it was for her to have to drag me here.

I left the room, heading straight for the door. It then dawned on me that Gabriella was my ride. Damn. I didn't think this one through.

Nobody had moved from their original positions. They were all still sitting in a corner, smoking. I was greeted by a rush of smoke, intoxicating me.

I tried not to cough as I sat back down at my original seat.

This time, they weren't smoking from the bong anymore. No, they had come up with a few blunts. I disliked watching them roll the weed into this paper. They were all so skilled when they did it. It was disgusting.

Gabriella had approached me again, taking a seat on my lap. "Hey hot stuff, where were you? I was hoping you didn't fall in the toilet." She burst out laughing at the suggestion.

I tried to disregard her bloodshot eyes.

"Yeah, sorry." I apologized, biting down on my bottom lip.

"It's OK. We all have one of those days. Sure hope you didn't get lost! I know shit disappears in here all the time. Joe doesn't know how to clean." Gabriella winked at JoJo who just rolled his eyes.

"Well that's life, mama. So Troy, my man, you gonna smoke finally? We been waiting. Zeke over here is really excited to introduce you to Mary Jane."

Omitting all my worries and sick of being stressed out, I grabbed the blunt out of JoJo's hand and sucked the life out of the thing.

Yeah, I was going to hell. I was dating the devil _and_ going to hell.

I heard the room cackle in excitement as I released the smoke into the air. A moment passed. I expected more from this substance. What was this some kind of wonderful they always talked about? I didn't feel a thing. Instead of waiting any longer, I hogged the blunt, hitting it once again.

Zeke looked like he was going to bust out of his pants. Actually, he jumped up. Well, more like hopped.

"Holy shit! Holy shit!"

"Shut up, Zelda."

"No, fuck you, Baby G. This is some shit for real, right here. This is T-man smoking a blunt. Quick! Anyone have a camera?"

I wasn't listening to Zeke's shouts of celebration. I was too busy trying to figure out why in the hell I was doing what I was doing. Did I really feel the need to rebel? No. I was just a pushover. I was sick of being bitched at for not doing it so I just did it. Great. Now I'm a victim of peer pressure.

For some reason, I was actually counting in my mind the many brain cells I was probably killing at this moment. I also could hear my dad ranting and calling me a dumbass, kind of like Red Forman does to Eric Forman on _That 70's Show_. I envisioned myself with 'Dumbass' stamped across my forehead. I was going to the dark side. Troy Bolton would never do this...

The world around me disappeared, vanished within seconds. I was now surrounded by people I almost considered friends. Everybody was amiable. Nobody was annoying or on my last nerve anymore. I didn't feel the need to impress anyone. Instead, I just fit in. I was a puzzle piece that worked perfectly into the puzzle. I was that missing piece.

I didn't want to say anything. I felt like no matter what I'd say, it'd sound moronic. I kept to myself. It was weird, this new sensation. No wonder Gabriella was always so vagrant.

"Hey man. How you feelin'?" Zeke asked.

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "I'm alright..."

"He's high as a bird, look at it his eyes, dawg." JoJo interrupted.

What was happening to me? I was becoming some new person. I never did these kinds of things. I was always the good kid. Now I was becoming just like everybody else.

"Zeke, you're a jackass." I said, not even thinking my words through.

"A jackass you _love_, brah."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I guess."

At the moment, I actually realized something. Zeke Baylor was pretty funny. He may have tried a bit hard to reach the comedy level but it still worked out. His perverted attitude definitely helped with that. Although he made me feel uncomfortable talking about sex half the time, the guy was pretty comical. And life would be no fun without having him as a friend. He sure spiced things up.

My eyes wandered over to Gabriella who seemed even more out of it then the rest of us. Instantly, I was ashamed of what I had been doing. Here I was, being screwed up and stupid. I was supposed to be the responsible one. I must have been losing my mind. I was missing school and basketball practice.

I took my cell phone out of my pocket as the others got lost in mindless conversation. My dad had been calling me off and on. He had been texting me asking me where the hell I was. I even got one from my mom. I knew I was in big trouble when I got home. Right now, I could only relax. I didn't need to carry all the world's worries on my shoulder. Right now, I was someone else. I wasn't Troy Bolton anymore. I was heedless. People didn't care what I did or what I said.

"I think we should get going." I finally spoke up, my eyes on Gabriella.

She seemed completely lifeless, like she was about to pass out. She had moved to the floor right below me after taking one too many hits. I knew it was time to call it quits. I was kind of embarrassed that she was so far gone.

"Aw man, so soon? We was just catchin' up..." JoJo seemed disappointed, as did Zeke.

"Sorry guys. Gabriella looks tired." She really did.

* * *

Gabriella could barely walk as I wrapped an arm around her towards her car. I began to shuffle through her purse in search of the keys. Fortunately, I found them.

I put the keys into the ignition and started the car. She barely said a thing as she laid her head back, falling into a deep sleep.

I hated to admit it but I felt like I was in a dream. The world around me seemed to be spinning, coming so fast as I was moving so slow. Everything I did seemed to be the speed of a turtle. People in front of me seemed to be driving 70 mph while I stuck to a steady 20. Paranoia hit me like a hailstorm, causing me to become extremely nervous. I couldn't drive like this, I was impaired.

It all happened so fast. One minute I'm driving down a normal road at a slow speed, the next I hear sirens going off from behind me. I didn't believe the car was trying to stop me. Maybe it was the guy ahead of me. I never got pulled over. I was an excellent driver.

My heart began to race and I couldn't breathe right. Oh God, no. No, this wasn't going to happen to me. Not right now. I suddenly felt regret for everything I had done. My eyes were barely opened. I was having a panic attack the best I could.

I pulled over on the side of the road.

And for the first time in forever, a word came through my mind.

_Fuck!_

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

**A/N: **Sorry I fell off the earth for awhile. I was hoping this chapter would make up for it. 7,500 words. Wow. Sure took me a few weeks. Troy's busted. What a horrible moment, right? I wanted you guys to understand that Troy may be a good boy but everybody falls into pressure eventually. Not saying he's going to do this a lot because trust me this is like a onetime thing. I also wanted to show you girls will fawn over him in spite of his relationship with Gabriella. And she will have to deal with it. He is beautiful after all. And he's a good guy. Well, give me some reviews and I'll update soon!


	24. Chapter 24

_"There's no religion that could save me. _

_No matter how long my knees are on the floor.  
_

_So keep in my mind all the sacrifices I'm making, to keep you by my side and to keep you from walking out the door."  
_

-BRUNO MARS

* * *

_Gabriella's Mind-_

I knew it was a bad idea.

Everybody in the history of the world knew getting Troy Bolton high was like trying to start a fire without matches or without a lighter. And I was totally and completely shocked when he actually picked up that blunt and took in the smoke. Over and over again.

Troy had left the building, evidently. The real Troy that I knew and loved would have never smoked yet alone _touched_ the thing. He was terrified of smoke, of things that were bad for him. Exactly why he was terrified of me half the time.

I thought I was in hell when I finally woke up. If hell was in the passenger's seat of my own car, that is.

I was incoherent, unsure of what was going on. My mind felt dead. Had I managed to damage what was left of my brain?

Flashing lights. Red and blue. Oh, shit. Cherries and berries. That was never good!

My eyes blinked a couple of times to recollect the world around me. In my peripheral, I could see Troy with his hands on the wheel. He did not look good. His eyes were foggy, bloodshot. He looked so exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in months.

I wanted to pretend I was still passed out but I couldn't disguise my own fear as a man with a blue shirt and matching pants came up to Troy's window with a flashlight. He beckoned Troy to roll down the window.

"Evening, sir. Do you realize you were going 20 mph when the speed limit is 55?"

Dammit. Troy was driving like an old lady. Of course. He wouldn't dare be _speeding_. Instead, he was being overly cautious.

Troy looked like he was petrified, like if he spoke he'd probably wet his pants. I actually felt sympathy for him and I fought the urge to grab his hand and attempt to make him feel better.

He'd probably never been in a situation like this before.

"Sir? You with me?" The police officer inspected Troy's irises, which were there, yet so not.

I wanted to nudge him. Speak, dumb ass. If you don't, we're fucked.

"Miss?" The police officer looked over at me, realizing I was half-awake, taking in the whole situation.

I needed to put on my good girl veneer right away.

"Hey, Mr. officer." I greeted him, trying to give him a smile. I can tell it turned out weak. "Sorry, Troy's kind of like a deer in the headlights right now. He turns to mush when he's put in a scary situation."

The officer just raised an eyebrow. "Can you explain why he was driving 20 mph in a 55 range?"

"Well, rumor has it, wildcats randomly immerge from bushes. Troy was just being overly cautious. Especially on streets like this. They're creepy, you know? Troy doesn't like to hurt the wild. He's very nature-friendly."

I had to stop myself from laughing my ass off at my stupid lie. Dear God. I'm amazing.

Troy's glazed, crystal blue eyes glanced over at me, subtly. He looked nervous as hell, again, like he might just wet his pants.

"Can I see your license, sir?" The officer shined his light back on Troy, who almost flinched at the sudden attention on him.

Poor guy.

Troy rummaged through his pockets, pulling out his license, handing it to the guy.

"Bolton, huh? Ain't you Jack's son?" The officer lowered his hat for a second, taking in Troy's face. "I'll be damned – you look just like him. Jack and I went to high school together."

He looked over to me. "Who's car does this belong to?"

"It's mine."

"Can I see the registration?"

I searched through the glove box to reveal the paper's for the car and handed it to the man. He seemed to have relaxed a little, knowing Troy was Jack's son. Funny how everybody knew Jack around here. Jack was pretty likable though.

"Well, I'd suggest you get in the driver's seat. This boy looks like he's going to go into shock any time now." He was actually snickering! "Hope you two have a good night. Tell Jack I said hi."

He hadn't even checked the registration!

I looked at Troy, who was looking at me desperately, as the police officer walked away.

"Well, that was close." I chuckled. "Thank God for Jack."

Then it happened. I seen what looked like fire ignite in Troy Bolton's eyes. His jaw tightened and without a word, he turned off my car's ignition and got out, starting to walk along the side of the road. WTF?

Confused, I hopped out, following behind him. "The hell are you doing?"

The only response I had gotten was the sound of Troy's vans hitting the pavement as he continued to walk.

"Hello? Asswipe? Where are you going?"

Troy finally whirled around, facing me. "That was fun. Wasn't it, Gabriella?"

The way he said my name so venomously kind of sent me into hysterics. Damn, he was so hot when he was mad.

I was kind of glad he had his voice back though. I could tell he was being sarcastic.

"Oh, so now you're pissed?"

Troy just glared, rolling his eyes. "Really?" And then he started walking away. "I'm going home."

He was so cute. Like a child having a tantrum.

"You could always stomp your foot. That might work too."

This didn't ease the situation.

"Troy, I'm sorry, OK! I knew it wasn't a good idea. But I sure as hell didn't think Jack Bolton's bestie would show up and pull us over!"

Troy stopped for a second. "Yeah, you think he's not gonna tell my dad? My dad already doesn't know where I am. Wait 'til his friend from high school calls him to inform him!"

"Your dad saved our ass in this one! If he wasn't so badass, that police man would have taken us to juvy. Right then and there. Maybe even prison if we're lucky enough."

Troy didn't seem refreshed by this information. "So I should just be celebrating over the fact that we just got stopped by a police man, after doing drugs and _didn't_ get caught?"

"Well, it's a hell lot better than getting caught." I mentioned.

Troy just grumbled and continued to walk alongside of the pavement, ignoring the fact it was a dead highway in the middle of nowhere. No sign of human life or even…any life. At all.

"So, you're going to walk home?"

He didn't answer.

"Well, that'll be fun. Wait 'til some weirdo sees you walking in the road, checks out your fine ass and decides he wants some. Have you ever been fucked in the ass before, Troy? Oh wait. No. You haven't. Well, I'm sure tonight will be the first!" I yelled at him.

What? Queers need some action some time too, you know? And if I was a gay guy, Troy would definitely be the apple of my eye!

Hell, he's still the apple of my eye. Ugh.

What does that even mean…exactly?

Stubborn, bullheaded… he kept walking! Ugh. I didn't want to have to go to extreme measures…

"I'm calling your dad!"

Ha. He totally just stopped in his tracks and turned around, a look of panic in his eyes. "You wouldn't."

Oh, yes I would. "If you don't get your ass back in my car right now and stop being a child, I will."

With my cell phone out, I held it up, proving to Troy I wasn't joking. He wanted to play games? Well, I can too.

It took a moment for him to stalk over to my car again. Grudgingly, of course. He was pouting.

I got in the passenger's seat.

He got in the front seat, his forehead must have created wrinkles. He sure looked stressed out. Pop a blood vessel, maybe?

He then turned on the car, not even looking back at me. Ouch.

He made sure to drive 55 the whole way back to my house.

"Are you seriously going to ignore me the whole way back to your house?"

…

I rolled my eyes. Cool beans.

"Hey, dickhead? You there?" I ran a hand in front of his concentrated blue eyes.

He didn't flinch.

So I pouted. And folded my arms, groaning extremely loud. Like a little kid who just got grounded from his or her video games.

"Admit it. Tonight was fun. You lived a little."

Silenced still echoed through my car.

"OK! I'm sorry. Jesus, Troy. Stop ignoring me. _Please_." Lord, I was a little bitch. I couldn't stand him not saying anything.

"You're right, I'm wrong. It was a bad idea… this whole night. But you kind of lost it. Usually you go all head-ass and forbid me from taking you to such trashy places."

Finally, his eyes shifted over to me in the darkness. "I know."

He actually looked sorry. Apologetic. Like this was his fault.

"I'm sorry, Gabriella. I just… you know, for one minute, I was trying to be someone else. And it was stupid." He frowned, and his eyes went back to the dark road in front of us.

I watched him in the moonlight, the way his cheek bones were so defined, the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was angry. In spite of everything, he looked so attractive right now. As he always did. Which of course… pissed me off.

"Well, I didn't want you to be anyone else. Honestly, I have no idea why the hell I push you to do things you don't like to do. I guess I just like it when you look uncomfortable. It's entertaining."

Troy looked over at me, without saying a thing. He just raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously. You're funny. You wonder why Zeke annoys you so much. You think he really is _that _annoying?"

"Yeah. Right. Zeke is that annoying." Troy argued.

I lit up the cig with the lighter I had in my back pocket.

I watched Troy's face. His nose crinkled. Like it always does.

"You know, you could at least attempt to hide your disgust."

"What's the point? You're my girlfriend. And you're going to get cancer." I ignored the way he titled me as his 'girlfriend', which made my heart waver.

He was totally rude and pissed off when he said this.

So much for chivalry.

"Mmm. Cancer. Yum. I love cigarettes." I grinned to irritate him.

He only shook his head and looked out the window. I thought I hinted a trace of a smile on those perfect lips.

I hadn't realized we were so close to our houses.

He parked my Honda in my driveway. The house looked dead. Pretty sure my parents weren't even around. They hadn't been home in days.

"Your parents?" He asked.

"Hell, if I know. They're never around anymore."

"… I'm sorry." He looked at me. He was serious.

I just shook my head. "Don't be. They're assholes."

He made a face. "They're your parents…"

I grabbed my purse and began to get out of the car. "Coming?" I nearly tripped on a rock by the front door.

I busted out laughing.

"Gabriella, you need to be quiet! My parents.."

"Oh, shut it Bolton. Who cares? Your dad's probably waiting for your ass. Come on." I unlocked my front door.

Troy just stood there. Nervous.

"You know, I should probably go home. It's been a long night."

I folded my arms. Damn.

A part of me wanted to be diabolical and force Troy to come stay the night with me again. It wasn't really the evil part of me though. It was more like the obsessed, love-drunk girl inside of me. I wanted to memorize Troy's face again. His features. I wanted to run my fingers down his chest and have him inside of me again. Thrusting, bringing me back to life. The worst part was I wasn't really wanting the sex part… I just wanted to have him close, have his arms around me. I felt safe with him. I wanted him to look at me in that way… in that way where I knew. I knew I was his whole life, his whole world, and that his universe revolved around me, that no other girl would ever come close. And he didn't even have to say those words.

But I decided to let go of my selfish wants and I would let him go back home, where he felt comfortable. I already broke him out of his zone tonight. He already got to be someone else. I wanted Troy Bolton back, the boy who knew what he wanted, the boy who knew what was good for him and what was bad. He knew sleeping in his own bed was out of harm's way. His father wouldn't bitch at him for any of that.

One second and I was nose to nose with him. My heart screaming for his lips on mine and I had to listen. My whole body always ached for him anyways.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" There was hope in my voice. Tomorrow was Thursday.

Troy's electric blue eyes caught mine in the night. I didn't want to ever break away from them.

"I love you, Gabriella." It was his own words and at that moment, I didn't believe them.

I thought I was in surreal dream. Had he just uttered those out loud?

How was I living in my own fairytale, where Prince Charming told me he loved me, and we went riding off into the sunset?

"Gabriella?" I must have not said a word in a few minutes.

Daydream land. Ugh.

"I love you too, Troy Bolton."

And then, the planets aligned. Everything made sense. He kissed me.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of my bellowing alarm clock. School, also known as my personal prison.

There was only one reason I would be attending school today and that was because of my boyfriend, Troy Bolton.

I was officially one of those girls who squealed and shrieked about how they had a new boyfriend and how things were perfect and how he was so cute. And I was never one to write stupid love notes all over my notebook, but I had the urge to do just that and instead put _Mrs. Gabriella Bolton _with a bunch of hearts around it. How pathetic.

I took a quick shower and messed with my hair until it arrayed several curls. I then put my make up on and sauntered out the door, ignoring the breakfast that my parents were having in the dining room. They hadn't been home in days. They had no idea what even happened.

As I was starting up my car, I realized I was just in time. Troy Bolton was walking out to his junky truck. With his tight jeans and polo shirt, I couldn't help but admire him. He walked slowly, with such swagger. He never even noticed me staring.

Pretty sad when you catch yourself checking out your own boyfriend.

Transfixed and caught up in his sexiness, I barely registered the fact that he was heading over to me. My obsessions were not so subtle.

"Morning sexy," I greeted with a flash of teeth. "Need a ride? Wouldn't want your uh… thing to break down." I nodded over to the piece of junk he often referred to as his vehicle.

Disregarding my snotty comment, he made himself comfortable in the passenger's seat. "My dad's clueless about last night. He thinks I was out late studying with you."

I chuckled to myself, pulling out of the driveway. "Seriously? And I thought your dad was like a cop. Militant and everything."

I began to mess with the music, finding some good rap.

I then lit up a cigarette. "You know, in spite of your constant bitching and nasty looks, I haven't been smoking as much as usual. Good job, Troy. Looks like you're doing me some good after all."

He didn't retaliate.

I was speaking the truth though. Since Troy and I started dating, I hadn't smoked as much. I usually went through about a pack a day, now I was barely smoking three cigarettes a day. It was kind of miraculous if you ask me.

My phone vibrated. In my peripheral, I could see Troy squirming in his seat. Evidently, when phones ring, you should always answer them, otherwise, he gets uncomfortable.

Damn. He was so high maintenance.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Please tell me you're coming to school today." It was Sharpay's, squeaky, pleading voice.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm on my way now."

"Thank _God_. There are rumors! And there's a photo and…"

Oh brother. "Oh, great."

"We need to talk, ASAP."

I hung up on her, grunting. Of course. Zeke was at the party so he probably had tons of pictures and was boasting up a storm, how his best friend forever decided to finally experiment with drugs. What a guy.

This was kind of a priceless story for East High though. Troy was clean, never did a bad thing in his lifetime, got straight A's, and never hung out with the wrong crowd. And then all of a sudden he decided to break out of his status quo, get high with a bunch of stoners, and even get pulled over for going too slow. OK, so maybe going to slow was very like him… but the other things he did last night were not.

I looked over at Troy. I kind of felt sympathy for him. He was about to experience hell today at school. I decided it'd be best not to warn him. Didn't want him to get all neurotic again.

We both got out of the car and I headed towards my locker. He was right behind me, right at my feet. I ignored the way that people kind of glared at us, envious of the way we looked together, how we were a match made in heaven. Most girls wanted to kill me simply because I had _him_, while there were often guys who just watched, wondering what in the world Troy Bolton ever did to win my heart. My answer: _by just breathing._

He barely had to fight for me. I was already his.

I was completely aware of him by my side as I went through my books, searching for the one's I needed for my next few classes. Troy looked a little panicked as people walked by us, whispering amongst each other. A lot of guys actually acknowledged Troy, giving him a pat on the back, congratulating him for finally going to the dark side.

"They know…" he uttered quietly as I finally had all my books gathered up.

"No shit. You're a popular topic. Thanks to your buddy, Zeke."

I could see the animosity swimming in Troy's eyes as I just mentioned Zeke's name. Shit, someone was in trouble. I didn't want to be involved in this chaos.

"I gotta go to class." He told me. He seemed distracted by all the gossiping and the rumors, but gave me a kiss on the cheek.

How lame.

The day went by extremely slow. I didn't get the chance to run into Troy at all. I was bored out of my mind.

School, like I mentioned before, didn't interest me. And whenever I got a test back, I cringed. I normally got bad grades. I didn't really put any effort into school though. To me, it was just a way to pass time, not something to excel at, like Troy did.

Before I got to second hour, Sharpay bombarded me.

"Gabriella. There are rumors everywhere! What happened? What are the deats? Troy Bolton smoking weed? O.m.g."

I wanted to smack her. God, she was annoying sometimes. I was friends with her… why?

"Please don't talk like that. Ever. Not to me. And yes, Troy Bolton got fucked up. Very fucked up. But who the fuck cares? Find something else to talk about. He's over it, as am I."

"Over it? This is big news! Troy is like… above the influence! What happened? Did you drug him?"

"No I didn't drug him, you stupid bitch." I didn't even bother hiding my distaste for this conversation.

Sharpay backed off immediately. "Wow. Sorry… just, you know, rumors."

"Yeah. Zeke's rumors. You can tell him to go fuck himself, and if I see him I will beat his ass. Let him know."

"Gabriella… uh, you do know, you're a girl, and he's a guy and…"

"I will still beat his ass. He thinks he's cool now because he was at a party where Troy got a little stoned. It's really not that cool. Zeke is a loser. And so are you for listening to him. And well, I guess I am too. Because I hung out with those idiots."

Sharpay's eyebrows knitted. "Oh my.. God. You are like… Troy now." She said this in a kind of robotic voice.

I faced her. "Uh? No…"

"Um, yeah. You're so like Troy. The old Gabriella would be ashamed with you!" She was being very dramatic, flailing her arms. "You two really are in love. Aren't you?"

I confronted her brown eyes, unsure of how to answer. Of course I was in love. I somehow believed I'd unceasingly love Troy. It was a love that made me shiver all over, that brought me to my knees, that made changing _inevitable_. He had took me over, I was already becoming someone else. Someone better. Because I wanted him to look at me the way I looked at him. I wanted him to hold the upmost of respect for me. I wanted to be his trophy girlfriend, the love of his life, the girl that stole his heart. And I wanted to _deserve_ that title.

"O-kay… well, I gotta get to class. I'll see ya." Sharpay waved me off, leaving me standing there, alone.

Consumed in thoughts.

About to head to my next hour, I recognized a rather familiar mop headed boy at his locker nearby. To my disadvantage, Zeke was beside him, going on and on about something. I couldn't help but meddle as I slipped into the conversation.

"Yeah, bro, you were bomb at that party. Everyone's talking. I have about fifty likes on the Facebook photo I uploaded of you taking a hit. Everybody can't believe it. They think it's incredible, my man! You're a hero! You can do it all!"

I could see the irritation in Troy's pupils as he continued stacking his books into his locker. He was trying his best not to tell Zeke to shut the hell up and go bother someone else. However, he was going to break soon. Zeke longed to unleash the beast.

"Hopin' you still don't have a stick up your ass. Cuz right now, chicks are talking everywhere!"

Now was my turn to step in. "Uh, excuse me, Ezekiel? Chicks? Troy only has one chick, and that's me."

Zeke evidently hadn't noticed I had stuck my head into the conversation. Panic struck his face as his eyes darted from Troy's back to my expecting eyes.

"Sorry Baby G. But T-man is a local celeb now. He's moved up in the world. Time for him to be a bachelor so he can be my wingman."

"Well fuck," I blurted, making Troy turn around, "you should've said so. I mean, our whole relationship revolves around what you think and how you feel, after all. Isn't that right, Troy?"

I could make out the shadow of a smile spreading across Troy's lips before Zeke decided to jump in. "Hell yeah it does. Troy and I are best friends, ya know? And best friends gotta do what best friends gotta do."

Curse Zeke for sabotaging the almost-smile. Troy Bolton's smile was definitely one of God's greatest creations.

"Best friends? Pretty sure Chad is Troy's best friend. Or me. Not you. But good one."

"Jes remember who had your back when you was down, T. Good ol' Zeke."

Troy actually made a face. "… When was I down?"

"…Uh, I dunno. But dawg, you know if you were, I'd have your back!" Zeke grinned triumphantly. "Anyways, what's up princess?"

"Are you talking to me or Troy?" I asked. And I wasn't joking. I had no idea which one of us he was talking to.

Troy pretended like he didn't hear my question… or Zeke's.

"I'm talking to you, Sweet Cheeks. I know Troy's kind of like a princess and everything… but I gotta quit makin' fun so much. You know how he's reached new highs?" He winked at me.

Yeah, Zeke shouldn't wink. It's just not hot. Not like Troy.

With the slam of his locker door, Troy was out of sight.

"Good job. You scared him off, you ass." I shook my head at Zeke.

* * *

The day seemed to slug by without any excitement. Eventually I was in the cafeteria surrounded by Zeke, Chad, Jason, and some other fools that were mostly Troy's friends. Sharpay decided to make herself at home at the table from now on, as did Taylor, Chad's ex-girlfriend… or… new girlfriend. Whatever.

I didn't mean to glare at Taylor. I guess I did feel a little washed up – Chad fighting to the end for me, going to propose to me, then all of a sudden he left my life all together. All because of Taylor. I was just being selfish. Troy was nowhere to be found so I was a little lonely.

Zeke and Sharpay sure seemed extra friendly today. Sharpay was even sitting by Zeke. Bored by the conversation and the lack of blue eyes to get lost in, I paid heed to the way they were around each other. It was different – like the relationship between them had changed. Sharpay was… _nice_, as in not bitching at him. And Zeke was… well-behaved. That was a whole new behavior for him. He didn't make any comments about girls, he didn't even mention Troy and what happened the other night. He was being civil, talking about basketball, about his schoolwork. And ever so often, he would look over to Sharpay to see if she was listening. She always was listening, too. God, what happened between them? They were getting wild at Zeke's party, but…

Oh shit. Something must have happened.

I glanced over at Sharpay, trying to catch her attention. I was making no progress so I crushed her foot underneath the table. She shrieked in surprise, brown eyes glaring at me from across the table. I shrugged carelessly.

"We need to talk." I got up from my seat and pulled her out of hers, directing her out of the cafeteria.

She of course, pissed and moaned the whole way there.

Finally, out of Zeke's proximity, we were in the hallway.

"What the fuck is going on with you and Zeke?" I demanded.

A few teachers stopped in their tracks, abashed by my dirty mouth.

Sharpay looked humiliated. Her face was turning a cherry red as she tried to hide behind her hair. "Um… what are you talking about?"

"I know you think I live in lala land now that Troy and I are together but I'm not stupid. You and Zeke are fucking!"

Sharpay's eyebrows furrowed and she slapped me across the arm. "Gabriella!"

"Admit it! You are so screwing him!"

"Am not." She pouted. "We're just friends."

"_Friends_? You're _friends _with that animal? Oh dear Jesus."

"So are you. You hang out with him all the time!" She accused, pointing a long fingernail at me.

I cringed. I hate long fingernails. Especially Sharpay's.

"Yeah, but that's different. I actually am having sex with Troy. You're not having sex with anyone. Which means you must be doing it with Zeke."

"You're kidding. Your accusations are insulting Gabriella! I am _not _a super slut."

"You're right. I'm the fucking super slut. But I know you have feelings for Zeke. And you didn't even tell me."

Sharpay sighed, looking away from me. "Yeah… because… it's Zeke. And look how you're reacting just to us being friends!"

I admit, I was being a little dramatic. She must have been out of her mind though. _Zeke_? As in the pig that needed to be restrained, otherwise he would have sex with every single girl in East High? That's the same guy we're talking about here!

"Because… he-he…he's…Oh, where do I begin?"

"We connect, Gabriella. And he made a cake and…"

"A cake? Whaat?" I backed up. "Whoa, what the fuck? Zeke bakes?"

"Yeah. He does… he's really good actually! See, it was my birthday the other day…. And of course, _no one _cared." She gave me a good scowl during this conversation. "But Zeke did. He baked me this amazing cake… and…"

"And you fell in love. The end." I rolled my eyes. "This is a lame-ass story. Shar, you are a dumb ass."

"Shut up! I'm not finished. We kissed at his party, ok? That guy that I liked… you know, on the team, he was being really mean. And he made me cry earlier in the night. Zeke told me to just say screw it and have fun, so I did. Well… we did. And things got kind of… steamy."

I tried to suppress the urge to throw up in my mouth. "Uh. Right. Steamy. As in, kissing Zeke. How… unsexy."

"Gabriella! You asked. We've just been… hanging out. I know you think it's stupid but I'm not falling for him or something. He's just different when he's actually nice, you know? Sometimes I think he just acts out to be funny. He's really sweet."

The pathetic part of this was I knew what Sharpay meant. I had spent some time with Zeke before and he really wasn't _that _bad. He was kind of entertaining. A lot of the time he just wanted to get under Troy's skin which was why he went all vulgar and started talking shit. Overall, Zeke wasn't a bad guy. Had he been put in a situation, he would do the right thing. I also believe if he fell in love, he'd be a fantastic boyfriend. He was caring. He just didn't show it all the time. Before Troy and I were together, I had heard several rumors that Zeke was interested in me. And for awhile, I seen it a different side of him – a softer, more laidback side, where he wasn't always trying to amuse and impress his friends. Instead, he was trying to impress me.

"… I believe you. But… I still think you're stupid." I smirked.

Sharpay folded her arms. "Whatever. I don't need your blessing! I think _you're _stupid for falling in love with Prince Charming. Mostly because Prince Charming doesn't exist and nothing lasts forever. So, go ahead, make fun of me for liking Zeke. At least I've accepted that it may not progress the way I want it to."

And with that, she sauntered away, her golden blonde curls bouncing as she left.

Dammit. She was right.

Where the hell was Prince Charming anyways?

I was sick of being alone!

Determined, I walked down the hallways, asking teachers and students if they had seen a gorgeous, blue-eyed boy any time soon. I got a lot of shrugs and a lot of glares but I didn't really care. I was relentless.

Finally, I got an answer from a teacher, saying they seen him walk into the chemistry lab. Fucking wonderful.

With a little guidance, I stumbled into the chemistry lab. _Advanced _chemistry lab, of course. God forbid Troy Bolton be in anything but the best class there was.

I lingered at the door, just taking a gander. My eyes rested upon the ever-so-famous Troy, concentrating on some experiment. He was wearing a white coat and a pair of safety glasses as he carefully poured something into a beaker. I was shocked at the change of color that immediately occurred. I wasn't exactly a chemistry geek but that shit was kind of cool.

"Hiding?" I broke the quietude, biting down on my bottom lip as I leaned against the doorframe.

Troy almost dropped the beaker he was holding as he heard my voice. He whipped his head around and our eyes met briefly. In just that second, fireworks set off and magic had taken over. Then, the eye contact was broken as he turned away.

"Everybody's so annoying today."

"I know. I thought you were going to kill Zeke." I chuckled, striding towards him. "I myself almost killed him."

"Nice coat, BTW. Didn't know you were a science geek too."

Troy just frowned as he went back to writing his lab report.

"Jk, Jk. You know I love you."

"So I was just talking to Shar and I guess her and Zeke are getting it on. Gross, right? And not just in the physical way. They're all attached to each other and shit. Eww."

Troy looked over at me, raising an eyebrow. "You do understand you're in a committed relationship…"

"Shut the fuck up. I know." I nuzzled my nose into his back. "You know, this chemistry stuff kind of turns me on. You know, there's an empty closet over there if you want to maybe…"

I could see Troy's eyes turning into slits in front of me. Reading his expression was easy, "Are you kidding me?"

"Not so much? Dammit. You always gotta make me work for it. It sucks." I complained.

"You know, sometimes I think you like sex more than I do. If that's… possible." Troy mused, completely occupied by the questions in front of him.

"I sometimes think that too. It's crazy right? Or maybe you just don't have enough testosterone."

"Trust me… I have enough." I couldn't help but obsess over the way he bit down on his bottom lip roughly, as if cursing himself for admitting such a thing.

He was so put together. Exactly why sometimes I just wanted to rip him apart, see what he really had to say, what he was really thinking. I kind of liked the way he portrayed himself though – shy and afraid of being too honest. Why would I ever ask him to do something more then he wanted? I wanted to stop, stop pushing him to be someone he wasn't. I loved him all immaculate and refined. That's what drawn me to him.

There was small knock at one of the doors and I jumped a little. Troy seemed just as startled as I did, glancing towards the door.

"Troy Bolton? I knew I recognized that as you. Working on our last lab?" It was a teacher with mousy, short curly blonde hair. She was very ordinary, nothing special to look at.

"Mrs. Thomas… yeah, I was just working on that lab from yesterday. I'm almost finished… if that's okay?"

Mrs. Thomas only smiled brightly at Troy. "Of course, that's fine." She then noticed me, standing beside Troy, tongue-tied. "Is this one of your friends?"

"… You could say that." I forced out, giving Troy my weakest smile. I was daring myself to be myself around this teacher, embarrass Troy a little but I decided I wouldn't. I needed to stop being such an ass.

"Nice to meet you." She gave me a nod. "Troy, I'm really hoping you'll pursue science when you go to college, maybe a science major?" She actually seemed enthusiastic about this, her blue eyes lighting up.

College? That was like, forever from now. Why the hell was she talking about it?

Troy's eyes left his lab report and met the teacher's. I lost my breath to the sight of his blue eyes – filled with something I hadn't actually seen much, passion. Besides when we were in bed together, he never really had much sentiment towards things. There was nothing that really meant something to him. But right now, I could see meaning. Indignation. Something powerful.

"I… actually want to pursue a medical career." The confession seemed to embarrass him as he looked over towards me, nervously.

It made complete sense to me though. I wasn't baffled or stumped by his words as much as he thought I was. Troy always put other's happiness before his own. He never judged people based on their reputation, what they had, or what they didn't have. He was perfect for the job. He was a good guy. And he was brilliant.

"Wow. I hope so! If you need a recommendation, I'll definitely write you one. You've definitely been one of my best students. Where do you intend on going to college?"

Troy's eyes sparkled. "California. Well… the west coast. I've visited several times and…"

"Great choice. I have plenty of friends who graduated from Stanford, UCLA, Santa Barbara. Stanford has one of the best medical programs in the United States, you know."

There was a hesitation in the room. California? That was only, how many hours away? But that was also awhile from now. I shouldn't be worrying about it.

"Well, you have a long time to figure it out. But I'm sure you'll do great." She gave him an optimistic smile.

Troy's eyes found my own, "Actually… I, um, I'm graduating early." There was a hint of guilt in his tone as he never strayed from my face. He was apologizing.

"… How early?" It was my question, my squeaky voice had finally spoken up. I didn't realize it was shaky.

Mrs. Thomas seemed just as interested.

"… I'm graduating next year, the first semester."

The world around me seemed to get smaller. Next year? First semester? What about _me_? The tile beneath me seemed to vanish, along with the conversation they were still having. Their words meant nothing now. I could literally hear my heart shattering into tiny pieces. I should have been on the ground, clutching my stomach. I kept myself erect. Surely, Troy hadn't been planning his future without me.

Forever – that was just a funny, silly joke to him.

He was about to head off to California and become some big shot doctor while I was stuck in Albuquerque, about to buss tables and waitress for the rest of eternity.

My palms began to sweat. There was a lump in my throat and I had to do everything in my power to keep composed, to not break down into sobs, to not liquify into a puddle on the floor.

Troy's eyes warily caught mine in his conversation with his teacher. I could see the sorry's floating. He desperately wanted to explain but right now, he couldn't. So I just had to wait. Wait and be tormented by the anticipation.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER

A/n: Oh my god, I'm so sorry it was so long! Major writer's block. Some more drama to come and stay tuned for some further Zeke x Sharpay action. I won't end this story without a bang though, I promise. By time it does end, you will be sick of Troy and Gabriella. Lol. Throw me some reviews though so I know you're still with me. And tune into my story, Best I ever had, Troy Bolton's version. Even if you haven't read Gabriella's version, you could tune into Troy's. It kind of saved me from my dark days where I couldn't think of anything to write. Love you all.


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